


A Bastard's Quest

by Kyuubi123



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dragon Riders, F/F, F/M, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Multi, R Plus L Equals J
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-11-14 19:37:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18058733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyuubi123/pseuds/Kyuubi123
Summary: Jon Snow never knew his mother but his father refuses to tell him. He decides that before joining the Night's Watch he will have an answer one way or another. Join Jon in his quest to learn about his past and how it will shape his future.





	1. Chapter 1

"Please father I beg you just tell me who she is!" Jon Snow pleaded from his seat in his room.

"My answer has not changed Jon. I will tell you at a later date. This conversation is over." Ned Stark stated in a firm tone before departing.

Jon Snow knew that he was a fortunate person. Most lords would have kept their bastards away from their true born chikdren and fostered them with a minor house so the shame would bot be present for all to see. Eddard Stark had not done this and had even ensured that Jon was given education and weapons training similar to Robb Stark, his heir, dispute the repeated derisive comments from his wife.

Jon was beyond grateful for these gifts but to his shame he always found himself wanting more. He would never forget when he and Robb were children playing, and Jon had declared himself the future Lord of Winterfell. Robb had quickly stated that such a thing was impossible as he was only a bastard. Though young, Jon felt a stab of sadness and overtake him as it was the first time he had been called such a thing by Robb. From that day forward Jon began to truly understand what others thought of him due to his birth and it slowly over the years began to spark a flame of determination and anger within his heart.

Jon was determined to excel at anything he could to prove to those that looked down at him that he was just as capable, just as good as anyone else. He was already gifted with a sword, but he worked himself to exahustion for months and was now viewed as one of the best swordsmen in Winterfell to Robb, Arya, Bran and Ned's approval and Lady Stark's growing suspicion and disdain.

Jon pushed himself in his studies, and it was not out of the ordinary to find him in the library late into the night reading by candlelight. Though not given the same extensive education as Robb, Jon was familiarising himself with not only the history of the North but of the south as well. He knew he was no scholar, but he would not allow them to call him a fool as well as a bastard.

Lastly, Jon found an odd fascination with the harp. He never thought himself to be musically inclined and could neither sing nor dance. In fact he found himself inept at all other forms of instrument. However, when he played a harp it just felt...right. Arya and even Sansa, whom was civil with Jon but always gave him a wide berth due to her mother, loved when he played. His father, unlike his skill in the swords and education never fully approved and had forbidden Jon from playing around anyone but his family.

It was his small personal harp that Jon grabbed now to help ease his frustration. Today was his nameday. He was ten and seven and was given small gifts or treats from some of the more sympathetic and understanding servents as well as his siblings. Even little Rickon had given Jon his favorite toy, though he said he wanted it back when the sun rose. Lord Stark asked Jon what he wanted and he had informed his father to keet him in his room that night. Though he loved his gifts and his siblings there was one thing he wanted above all else.

To know who his mother was.

It was a topic that kept him up at night. Everyone in the keep had an opinion on it. Some said she was a tavern wench. Others said a random woman Ned found comfort in during the war. However, the one most spoken about was Ashara Dayne. Jon listened to them all and found himself imagining what she looked like.

Was she still alive?

Did she know about him?

Did she dream about him like he did her?

It was these questions he desperately wanted answered and again he found none from his father. Jon had done everything he could to prove to his father that he was ready for the truth but at every turn he was denied.

Jon stopped playing his harp and began to pace his room. He had convinced himself a few months ago that joining the Night's Watch was the best idea for his future. There no one cared from where are whom you were born. Once you took the black, you were all brothers of equal standing. He was eager to join the ancient order and hopefully become a ranger like his Uncle Benjen. The thought of going past the wall into the far north where few every traveled and see sights unlike anywhere else captivated him.

However, he would never be able to have a wife, children of a true home of his own. He also could never leave except for recruiting more members.

'I can't commit to that without the truth.' Jon thought. For all he knew his mother was alive somewhere and would welcome him with open arms. Who knew what paths that could have for him.

"What do you think I should do boy?" Jon asked ghost his direwolf that was still laying beside his bed. They'd found the pups a few moons ago and in that time the wolves had all grown to the size of large dogs. It was astonishing, and he wondered how big ghost would get.

However, true to his name Ghost made no sound and simply looked at Jon with his blood red eyes that held more intelligence than Theon Greyjoy ever had, in Jon's humble opinion.

"He keeps saying that I'm not ready yet, or it's not yet time. If so then when will it ever be!"Jon seethed to himself. Feeling a familiar fire building within him, Jon. Grabbed his harp and with Ghost on his heels, headed into the night to get some fresh air.

He found himself enjoying the cold air and before he knew it, he was standing at the entrance of the crypts of Winterfell. Jon walked down the stairs and felt the fire raging in his veins cool as he passed by a few of the stone statues. He stopped in front of his aunt Lyanna. Father rarely spoke of her but what little he had heard from old nan and ser Rodrick is that she was a free spirit much like Arya and never let others preconceptions of what she should be and how she should behave dictate her life.

Jon sat with his back leaned against her crypt and began to play his harp. Ghost was at his side, and Jon's music began to echo throughout the crypts. Soon he felt as if a pair of soft arms wrapped around him from behind and he found himself falling into a deep slumber.

Jon opened his eyes hours later to the sound of someone calling his name. He felt his blood begin to heat once more as he gazed at his father.

"Jon we've been looking for you since dawn. What possessed you to come down here?" Ned's grey eyes fell on Jon's harp and he tensed as his gazed quickly went to his sisters statue.

"I needed time to think and clear my head. I must have dosed off." Jon said as calmly as he could. Looking at his father just reminded him of the rejection he has recieved the night before.

"I know how much you want to know Jon and one day I promise to tell you." Ned said, knowing full well what still bothered Jon.

"You've said that for years now father." Jon stated, his voice taking an accusatory tone as he tried to keep his temper under control. The fire from last night was being reignited and it almost felt like he was now channeling more anger and frustration then he had before, as if he was being feed from another source.

"Yes I have, and you must understand that I only want the best for you. You've grown so much and become a commendable young man." Ned said as he placed a hand on Jon's shoulder.

"Yet you still don't trust me to know the identity of my mother. I have done everything to prove to you that I am ready to hear it father. Just tell me at least her name." Jon asked, giving one last desperate plea before he lost control of his anger. For a long moment it seemed Ned would tell him but once again Jon's hopes were dashed.

"I'm sorry Jon but no." Ned said.

Jon felt as if a dam broke in his mind and he could no longer control the fire that erupted from him.

"Why?! What did she do that you would wish to bury her memory away? Was she a whore? Is that the reason? Did you feel obligated to take responsibility for a night of weakness? The great Lord Stark with his unshakable honor created a bastard that is a stain on his reputation and would rather keep the rest of it intact than tell the bastard who gave birth to him and risk it being made public." Jon raged. He shrugged his father's hand off his shoulder and moved to leave.

"Jon! Come back." Ned called after him but Jon didn't listen. He was afraid he would strike his father if he didn't walk away. His patience was at an end.

If Eddard Stark would not tell him the truth then he would find it for himself


	2. Moving On

(Jon)

Jon found that once he’d made up his mind about his course that it was shockingly easy to set his plan into action. He was once again in his room and had packed what little he had. His most prized possessions were his harp, his sword that Robb had gotten forged for him for his name day, and lastly a coat that Arya had made for him. Arya hated stitching but she had informed him that she’d spent the last year working on it slowly to make sure it was just right for him. Jon was touched and had set to make a gift for her. He pulled out the small sword that he had made and was keeping as a gift for when he left for the Night’s Watch. Now was as good of a time to give it to her. 

A sudden knocking interrupted his thoughts.

“Jon let me in!” a voice called from being his door. Jon smiled as he opened the door and was faced with the very person he’d been thinking about.

“Hello little sister.” Jon said warmly as he ruffled Arya’s brown hair. Nymeria ran in behind her owner and started playing with Ghost. Of the Direwolf pups, these two were the closest to one another. Arya’s smile vanished when she noticed his belongings were packed.

“Where are you going?” She asked both curiously and suspiciously. 

“I’m going on a quest Arya. To find my mother.” Jon stated in a low tone. 

“Oh a quest! Can I come with you?! I’ve been teaching Nymeria to fetch. I’m sure she could help find your mother.” Arya said with a cheerful smile, already thinking of the adventures they could get into.

“I’m sorry Arya but this is something I must do by myself. Also, I’m quite sure Lord and Lady Stark would be opposed to you coming with me across the country just to look for my mother.” Jon stated. Opposed was an understatement in his opinion. Lady Stark looked at Jon as if he was a demon from the seven hells just waiting for an opportunity to hurt his siblings, never mind that he’d give his own life for any of them without hesitation. 

“You can’t go alone Jon what if something were to happen to you?! Also, you can’t leave me. Without you I’ll have no one to play with.” Arya said hotly, her voice beginning to rise. 

Arya was Jon’s favorite sibling and the feeling was definitely mutual. It was cemented from an early age when Arya noticed that unlike her other siblings, she was the only one to inherit the Stark coloring of dark brown hair and grey eyes. All of her other siblings looked like Tullys. It got to a point that at the age of five Arya asked if she too was a bastard, a word she didn’t understand, like Jon since they looked alike. Lady Stark had of course blamed Jon for this and Ned had to explain to the young girl not only that she was a true born Stark but what that made Jon as a bastard. Arya, once realizing what some of the servants, Lady Stark and even Sansa on occasion were calling Jon, she had proudly and loudly proclaimed that he was her brother and that was all there was to it. 

‘Since that day we’ve been thick as thieves.’ Jon said as he felt his heart grow heavy at what he had to do. Leaving his other siblings would hurt but it was Arya that he would miss the most. 

“I’m sorry little wolf but this is something I have to do. But I do have something for you.” Jon said as he pulled out the sword and handed it to Arya. Her grey eyes that once held fury immediately glowed with joy and delight as she pulled the small think blade out of its scabbard. 

“This is mine?!” She whispered excitedly, knowing what would happen if someone were to hear her and inform her mother.

“Yes, it is. I was going to give it to you when I left for the Night’s Watch but now is a better time.” Jon said with a smile. Arya practically leapt into his arms and Jon held her tightly. She began to shake a little and he knew that she was shedding tears in both happiness and sadness.

“If you tell anyone I was crying I’ll use this sword on you.” She sniffled once he let her go.

“I expect no less. By the way they say every great sword has a name. You should name yours.” Jon said encouragingly. Interacting with Arya had all but extinguished the burning anger that was flooding his veins a moment ago.

“Sansa has her needles and now I have mine.” Arya said still wide eyed and excited for her gift. 

“You’ll never cut a man’s head off, but you can poke him full of holes if you’re quick enough.” Jon said, finding the name oddly appropriate. 

“I can be quick!” She replied happily. Soon however, she seemed to remember what Jon had told her and her temper returned. 

“Don’t think this makes up for you wanting to leave me Jon.” She said, her wolf blood showing itself.

“I love you Arya. I love all of my sibling. However, I must know who my mother is. I don’t even know if she still lives. There is a whole half of myself that I don’t know, and father refuses to tell me. Please understand.” Jon asked as he knelt to Arya’s level. The young she-wolf scowled but slowly nodded.

“I do. I just don’t want to you to leave me forever and forget about me.” Arya said, her eyes beginning to well up again.

“I could never forget you Arya and I promise to write when I can. I’ll figure out a way to get letters to you.” Jon said as he wrapped her in a hug.

“It’s going to be terrible here without you Jon. Robb is spending less time with us as father and mother groom him to be the future warden. Bran will probably go to squire for mother’s family since all he talks about is being a knight one day, Rickon is still a babe and Sansa is still an idiot.” Arya said sadly. Jon released her and let out a sigh. 

“Mother keeps talking about making me a proper lady so I can find a husband. I don’t want to be a lady Jon! I won’t sit around a circle talking about stupid things and babies all day.” Arya declared as she continued to vent her frustrations.

“Arya, I promise that I will never forget nor abandon you. As long as I am alive, I won’t let you be sold off to some lord to be a lady.” Jon promised. He had no idea how he would keep such a promise but knew his words were the right ones as Arya’s face broke into a bright smile.

“Really? You promise!” Arya said happily. 

“I promise little sister. Even if I have to kidnap you myself to keep that from happening.” Jon said with a smile. 

"Thank you Jon. I’m still not happy you have to leave so soon but I can understand why.” Arya muttered as she looked to their wolves that had stopped playing and were looking at their masters.

“Go on Arya. I’m sure the septa is looking for you and please don’t tell anyone. I want to explain it to them myself.” Jon said with a smile that grew when he saw Arya scowl at the thought of the septa that continually compared her to Sansa. She called for Nymeria and left after giving Jon one last hug.

“Well that was probably the hardest goodbye I’ll have boy. Come on let’s let everyone else know.” Jon said. Ghost, who had been looking at the door that his packmate had left through, walked to his owner’s side without a sound. Jon stopped short of leaving and knelt by Ghost’s side.

“I’m sorry boy. I’ve only been thinking of myself. I’ll be asking you to leave your siblings behind as well. Would you like to stay with them instead?” Jon said lowly. Some would think him insane for conversing with a wolf as if it could understand him buy direwolves were legendary for their intelligence and Ghost even more so in Jon’s opinion. He was proven right when Ghost tilted his head to the side as if to ask if Jon was serious in his request.

“Guess that’s my answer. Two lone wolves out in the big world alone searching for answers and adventure. Sounds like one of Sansa’s stories.” Jon chuckled as he and Ghost excited the room.

(Ned)

Eddard Stark was seated in the Godswood cleaning the Stark ancestral great sword Ice. The Valyrian steel blade truly never needed cleaning, such was the properties of the ancient and valuable metal it was forged from, but Ned did it more out of habit when he needed to think then anything else. 

His thoughts were on Jon and their previous conversation, or argument more like. He hated lying to the young man but even to this day, thoughts about his sister sent a dagger through his heart. He could barely mutter Lyanna’s name without wanting to break down in grief, much less explain her identity as Jon’s mother. He knew he would tell Jon one day, but he simply didn’t have the strength, or even the courage, to do so at this time.

‘Once he join’s the Night’s Watch. I’ll tell him after he’s said his vows.’ Ned thought to himself. It was truly for the best and he was pleased that Jon had made the offer himself. Benjen would look after the boy and Jon would be a more than worthy addition to the ancient order, despite the current state of it. It would also keep him from any potential threats should the wrong people learn Jon’s heritage.

‘Robert would not be able to lay a finger on him. He would be renouncing any claim to the throne and be outside of Robert’s command.’ Ned thought as he finished cleaning the great sword and looked at one of the faces in the weirwood.

“But is that the right course? Jon would be renouncing being ever able to hold land, have a wife or sire children.” Ned spoke along to the face, hoping for direction from the Old God’s. 

Ned had battled these thoughts ever since Jon informed him that he was thinking of joining the Night’s Watch. Jon believed himself to be a bastard and a stain on Ned’s honor. His wife did nothing but reinforce these thoughts and for that Ned would always hold a bit of resentment for the wife he had come to love and have five children by. Ned had a few times thought about fostering Jon to another Northern house or even giving him a bag of gold and letting him possibly go to Essos to explore and decide what he really wanted. However, in the end he believed that Jon would be safer joining Benjen and being away from any potential dangers. He’d always be able to visit the lad and have him visit Winterfell with Benjen. He would watch over Jon as long as he was able.

‘Promise me Ned. Promise me.’

“Ned?” 

He looked up and saw his wife, lady Catelyn Stark stood before him, much to his confusion. Cat was from the Riverlands and thus followed the faith of the seven. She rarely came into the Godswood unless there was something wrong. She found the faces on the weirwoods to be…unsettling.

“My lady, how may I help you?” Ned asked. Cat smiled, despite the news she had. Many would raise their eyebrows at such a formal question between husband and wife, but she knew that under Ned’s seemingly icy demeanor lay a kind and loving man. 

“Ned I’m afraid I received a raven.” She said as she came to stand before him.

‘Dark words. Dark wings.' Ned thought to himself as he steeled his mind for whatever troubling news she bore.

“My love, Jon Arryn has died.” Cat said sadly knowing how much this would hurt Ned to hear. Ned’s grey eyes widened in disbelief before grief took over him.

“H-how?” Ned asked. Last, he’d been aware Jon was healthy as an ox, even at his age.

“They say a fever took him. The King is on the way to Winterfell. He will be here in a few months’ time.” Cat replied as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She knew that Lord Arryn was like a father to Ned and he was a brother-in-law to Cat herself as he had wed her sister Lysa though she would admit she barely knew the man.

“Thank you for telling me. It also appears we have preparations to make.” Ned said forcing his mind away from the painful thought of the death of the man that was a father to him and instead focusing on the soon arrival of the man that was his brother in all but blood. He would mourn Jon Arryn in solitude at a later time.

“I agree. He will be coming with the royal family, kingsguard, and possibly half the court.” Cat said, already thinking of the housing and food they would have to allocate for all of the soon to be new arrivals.

“He would.” Ned said somewhat fondly. Cat sensed he needed time to process everything she had told him and moved to leave before stopping short. She turned to address him again though her tone became cold and detached though also a bit triumphant.

“Also, apparently the boy is looking to leave Winterfell in the morning.” She said shortly.

“What?!” Ned exclaimed as he jumped to his feet in surprise. He knew exactly who she was referring to. She never called Jon by name. Only referring to him as “the boy”. It was the compromise they both had bitterly accepted as Ned would not allow her to call him bastard nor could ne force her to acknowledge him by name. 

“I overheard him speaking with the children. I assume he is joining the Night’s Watch sooner than we thought.” Cat explained, fighting to keep a smile from her face. Ned’s face darkened knowing that she was overjoyed at Jon leaving. For the past few years she had all but begged Ned to get rid of him, either by fostering him somewhere else or sending him to the Wall to join Benjen. 

“I see. I will speak to him later.” Ned said in an emotionless tone. He would not discuss Jon with Cat. They’d had enough arguments about him to last a lifetime. He sat back down and turned to look at the faces in the weirwood. Understanding the dismissal for what it was she left him there to create preparations.Though the passing of Jon Arryn was unfortunate the news of the bastard leaving Winterfell and the coming of the King, and more importantly the unwed price, was very good news in Catelyn Stark’s mind.

‘Jon wants to leave now? All things considered it’s for the best. I don’t want to take the chance that Robert or someone else get suspicious.’ Ned thought to himself. Though everyone said that Jon resembled him, in truth every year Ned began to see more of his father in Jon with the coloring of Lyanna. Whereas Ned and his male children were stockier of build, Jon was lithe like his father and would be just as tall if Jon’s growth spurt over the past year was anything to go by. If Jon’s existence were to be made public before he took the black both Jon and Ned’s lives would be forfeit, to say nothing of the Stark family as a whole. Ned was still haunted at night at the fates of Princess Elia and her children.

‘I won’t allow that to happen again. If Jon has made up his mind to leave, I will support it, but I need to try and talk to him again. I don’t want us parting on such turbulent terms.’ Ned thought to himself. He gave a sigh as he felt the winds of change coming and he didn’t know if it would be for good or bad for House Stark.

(Jon)

Jon was back in his room preparing himself for a good night’s sleep before setting off in the morning. He’d told everyone he intended to that he was leaving in the morning and while all were sad most were understanding. Though that was probably because Jon hid his true intentions from everyone but Arya. The truth was that he did intend to visit the Wall first if for no other reason then to tell his Uncle Benjen that he would not be joining as soon as he first thought. He also wanted to see if his Uncle Benjen could give him any leads as to where to start looking for his mother. 

“Jon may I come in?”

Jon was interrupted from his thoughts as he heard his father’s voice. He felt the heat of anger again begin to rise within him but did his best to subdue them before rising and opening the door. Ned walked through and they stood face to face, neither saying anything for a long moment.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t come talk to you sooner. There are many affairs that I had to see to.” Ned stated.

“So, I’ve heard. The King is coming to Winterfell in a few months. Thankfully your bastard will not be here at that point to caste more shame upon you Lord Stark.” Jon said, trying and failing to keep a civil tone. He saw Ned wince at the words but didn’t allow pity to worm its way into his heart.

“Jon, I do not want us to leave on bad terms. Though you do not have my name you have my blood. I am sorry that I am not yet ready to tell you the truth but know that the next time we meet, after you’ve taken the black, we will have that conversation.” Ned promised, hoping this would alleviate Jon’s anger.

‘If only I could believe that.’ Jon thought to himself though he didn’t voice it. Ned might be fine with Jon joining the Night’s Watch early but if he knew that Jon was really going to search for his mother instead then there was a fair chance that he would try and stop Jon and the young man wouldn’t take that chance. 

“Very well.” Is all that Jon said. Ned seemed surprised, sure that Jon would be more excited at finally having a time frame for when he would learn of his mother’s identity but didn’t think to much into it, not wanting Jon to grow impatient and try and force the issue sooner.

“I can have guards accompany you if you’d like.” Ned stated, not wanting Jon to be attacked on the road. The North didn’t have a lot of problems with bandits but the North was also the same size as the other six kingdoms so there was no telling what dangers lurked on the road that was never reported. The wildlings specifically were getting through more frequently with the passing months for some reason.

“No thank you. I can take care of myself and I’ll have Ghost with me.” Jon responded. The last thing he wanted was anyone around who could potentially find out what he’d planned and inform his father. He trusted his uncle Benjen to keep silent about it and Arya wouldn’t be telling anyone either. Seeing that Jon was not in a talkative mood, but also being thankful that the young man seemed to have calmed down from their last conversation, Ned decided to take his leave. 

“Good night Jon. I will see you off in the morning.” Ned stated as he closed Jon’s door. Jon watched him go without further comment and let out a sigh once the door closed. His anger began to lessen the minute his father left his presence and Jon began to wonder if he’d ever again be able to look his father in the eye and not feel that anger, disappointment, and frustration well up in him.

‘When I know my mother’s name, when I know the whole story of my birth. Then I may be able to bury these feelings.’ Jon thought to himself as he crawled in bed. 

Ghost looked towards the door and Jon was only slightly surprised to see it open and Arya sneak in in her small cloths. She wordlessly moved to get in bed with him and he allowed it, wrapping her in his arms. This would be the last time she’d be able to come to him at night looking for comfort after something upset her and he would miss it as well. They fell to sleep in each other’s arms. Before sleep took him, Jon saw Nymeria curl up beside Ghost.

The next morning saw Jon preparing his horse for the journey. A few people were waiting for him at the gate. He recognized ser Rodrick, Jory Cassel, Old Nan, his father and most of his siblings save Sansa. He was slightly disappointed at that, but Sansa had always been the most formal of his siblings with him. He was sure it was due to the septa and Lady Stark’s influence. Sansa used to love him as Arya did until she learned what bastard meant and was groomed to be a proper lady by her mother who shouldn’t associate with one like him.

Despite that Jon was happy for the few that would miss him and received a hug from Rickon first, who didn’t seem to fully understand that Jon was leaving and wouldn’t be back for a while but was happy to receive his favorite toy back after letting Jon borrow it for his name day. Bran was next and he sadly told Jon to visit a lot and to have a ton of great stories like Uncle Benjen. Jon stopped in front of Robb and looked at the heir of Winterfell and his best friend.

“The next time I see you you’ll be wearing black.” Robb said with a smirk. 

“Aye you always told me it was my best color.” Jon snipped back with an equal smirk. They embraced and bid a fond farewell. As soon as he released Robb, Arya was in his arms.

“Don’t forget your promise.” She said tearfully.

“Never little sister.” Jon affirmed. After a few more goodbyes he was face to face with Ned Stark. The Lord of Winterfell pulled Jon into a tight hug that was slowly, if unenthusiastically, returned from Jon.  
“I promise you Jon. I will tell you the next time we meet once you’ve said you’re vows.” Ned whispered and released him. Jon simply gave a nod before climbing on his horse and leaving the only home he knew. A small part of him wondered if he was making the right decision but his path was set, and he refused to turn back now. 

‘My way is forward. To look back is to be lost.’ Jon thought to himself and true to his word he didn’t look back as he and Ghost moved down the King’s road to Castle Black and the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will end here. Next chapter will see Jon arrive at the Wall and meet a few interesting characters. He believes that he will be informing Uncle Benjen of his future plans, unaware of how this visit will put them in motion in a way he was not expecting.


	3. The Wall

( **Jon** )

Jon had heard stories from his Uncle Benjen but words could not fully express just how awe inspiring it was to see the Wall for the first time. Stretching three miles across and over seven hundred feet high the colossal structure was a marvel to behold and the fact that it was made entirely out of ice was almost impossible to believe if it wasn’t standing right in front of him. He’d actually seen it from a distance but as the small silhouette of white grew every larger as they drew closer it fully set in that this would be where he would spend his days after finding the truth of his mother.

“Let’s go boy.” Almost there. Jon said. He and Ghost had been traveling for a few days and he would be happy to finally see his uncle and have some warmer food. Though he’d be lying if he stated that there wasn’t something freeing about sleeping under the stars away from any stern glares or muttered insults. They came to the gates of Castle Black and were heralded by a man in black clothes from on high.

“Who goes there?” The man asked.

“Jon Snow. I am here to speak to my Uncle Benjen Stark.” Jon responded back. He waited for a minute before the gate was opened and he and Ghost moved through the gates. Jon would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited to see Castle Black and the men of the Night’s Watch. He took his horse to the stable and smiled as he was greeted by his Uncle Benjen who held a surprised but happy look on his face.

“Jon! By the Gods what are you doing here lad?” Benjen asked as he embraced his nephew. Jon returned it happily, he loved his uncle and was like the other Stark children was always happy when he visited to bring them stories and gifts.

“I wanted to see you Uncle and talk if that’s ok.” Jon said. He noticed many of the Night’s Watch were staring at him and Ghost with suspicion, fear, and curiosity. “Aye lad they would be fine.” Benjen said as he turned to take Jon somewhere private before being interrupted.

“So, this is the bastard.” Jon turned and saw a slim man that looked older than his father with black hair and hard black eyes. It was his eyes that put Jon on edge. He’d seen them pointed at him for years. Eyes that held bitterness, anger, frustration and a lot of rage.

“This is my nephew Jon Snow, Ser Alliser.” Benjen said coldly. Jon had rarely heard his uncle take such a tone and was put on the defensive. Ghost barred his teeth silently and Ser Alliser paused at the threat.

“Aye he’s the bastard as I said. Why does he have a dangerous animal walking around the castle? That mutt should be in the kennel.” Alliser said, looking at Ghost.

“He’s well behaved and has superb manners.” Jon said as he eyed the man, feeling his ire rising and leaving the subtle jab at Alliser’s lack of manners understood but unspoken.

“A beast trained by a bastard. I can only imagine the grief you have given the honorable Eddard Stark. Tell me boy, what did you do to get your father to kick you out of that comfortable castle and sent up her to freeze so soon? He didn’t even send a raven to Benjen from the looks of it. Mayhaps he was finally tired of having his bastard sully his home.” Alliser said nastily. Benjen looked ready to hit the older man but Jon reacted first. He moved to stand in front of the black clad man and even though he felt his blood set aflame at the insults he kept his head and words as cold as ice.

“It appears you have a problem with me ser. I would think a member of the Night’s Watch would disregard one’s parentage and upbringing and instead welcome a future brother.” Jon commented. He refused to let the man get a rise out of him by calling him bastard. It was a word that always angered Jon until he realized he was giving others power over him if he reacted every time t was uttered. He instead chose to wear the slight in silent frustration. Never allowing anyone else to use it against him and play him like a puppet.

“Aye he has the right of it. Back off Thorne.” A gruff voice said. All in the yard turned and looked at the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch Jeor Mormont. Jon had heard tales of the old bear from his uncle. The former Lord of Bear Island was still an imposing figure despite his old age. On his shoulder was a black raven that seemed to be staring directly at Jon.

“I was simply testing the mettle of our future brother, Lord Commander.” Thorne said, his response earning a snort of disbelief from Mormont and Benjen. The older man walked off with another sour look on his face that Jon imagined was how he looked most of the time.

“My thanks Lord Mormont. Jon came to speak to me about his future with the Watch.” Benjen explained.

“No harm done Benjen. Your nephew definitely has some wolf in him to match his pet.” Jeor said with a chuckle as he went back inside.

“Come Jon. Let’s talk.” Benjen said as he led him to the kitchens to get something to eat. Jon was grateful for the warm food and they’d found a large mutton bone for Ghost to chew on. Jon knew he’d have to let Ghost run free soon to find more substantial game.

“I’m surprised to see you so soon Jon. I’d thought you were waiting for me to visit Winterfell in a few months and come back with me then. You didn’t even send a raven.” Benjen said happily but also a little suspiciously. He knew his nephew to be a smart lad and one that thought things through before making a move. He was curious as to the sudden appearance.

“Aye that was the plan before, but circumstances changed recently.” Jon said vaguely. It was time to tell his uncle his plans and he was a bit nervous. What if Benjen strongly disagreed and forbade Jon to leave or worse sent a raven to his father?

“Tell me what happened.” Benjen said with a serious look on his face.

“I had an argument with my father about the identity of my mother.” Jon said briefly. Benjen’s face froze for a moment without comment before he seemed to regain his composure.

“What did Ned tell you?” Benjen said softly, his face still set in stone.

“Nothing, and that’s the problem. I don’t know why he is so determined to keep her away from me, but I couldn’t stay anymore.” Jon said looking away. The following silence stretched for a long minute before Benjen spoke.

“Jon you didn’t come to join the Watch, early did you?” Benjen stated more than asked.

“….No Uncle. I did not. I still expect to become a sworn brother one day but first I must know her identity. I don’t even know if she is alive or not or what the other side of my family is like. Once I say the vows, I will never be able to leave except for special occasions and I must know. Please understand.” Jon all but pleaded. He needed someone older to see his reasoning. Arya was one thing, but Jon still wasn’t completely sure that this was a fool’s errand doomed to fail and wanted some assurance that what he was seeking was a worthy endeavor. For several seconds Benjen didn’t speak, just staring at Jon’s face intently.

“I understand lad. I’d probably feel the same in your shoes.” Benjen said with a sigh. Jon felt a huge weight leave his shoulders and was surprised to find that he had been holding his breath. An idea sparked itself in his mind and he followed it.

“Uncle Benjen, do you know who my mother is?” Jon asked hopefully. It was possible that this quest could end right here and now. If there was anyone that his father would have told it would be his uncle. A pained look crossed Benjen’s face almost too quickly for Jon to catch.

“I’m sorry lad but I don’t. Ned never told me.” Benjen said softly, the last part more to himself then Jon.

“Is there any clue that you can give me that would help. I don’t think me wandering the country side shouting, ‘mother come out’ is going to get me anywhere.” Jon said with a smirked, tamping down the flash of pain that his uncle Benjen couldn’t tell him.

“All I can tell you Jon is that when Ned came back to Winterfell after the war, you had a wet-nurse with you named Wylla that Ned had brought from Dorne. She was sent back once you were weened. He told me that she wasn’t your mother but that might be the best place to start.” Benjen said.

‘From Dorne? I wonder if this means Ashara Dayne really is my mother.’ Jon thought to himself, happy that he had a lead. To be a child of the Daynes would make him kin to Ser Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning. Generally believed to be the best swordsman in the realm at the time of his death during the war at the hands of Jon’s father, though Jon had his suspicions as to the validity of the claim as Ned had always been very tight lipped as to how he bested the famed swordsman.

“Thank you, Uncle. That’s more than father ever did for me.” Jon said angrily.

“Don’t hold too much of a grudge against Ned, Jon. He must have his reasons even if for the life of me I can’t think of any good enough.” Benjen said, again looking at Jon and frowning a bit. Jon said nothing to this, silently brooding a bit before shaking it off. He had a lead and a destination, and it was more then he could say a day ago.

“I’ll be leaving in the morning if that’s alright uncle.” Jon said as he stood from the table.

“Of course, Jon. I’ll keep your secret from Ned as long as I can. Once he finds out though he’ll be sending people to try and find you.” Benjen warned as he stood as well and placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder.

“Hopefully by then I’ll have my answer.” Jon said as he turned to leave. Benjen was silent as Jon and Ghost exited the room and fell back to his seat as a thought refused to leave his mind.

‘Could it be? It’s crazy to think but could he really be yours Lyanna.’ Benjen wondered silently. Without absolute proof he’d never suggest such a thing to Jon. The news would be devastating to the lad and the implications as to the father even moreso. In the end it wasn’t for him to say. He had a feeling that the truth, no matter what it maybe, would come out soon.

That night Jon sat on the bed in one of the recruit’s rooms that Benjen and Jeor Mormont had allowed him to stay in for the night. Jon felt a lot of conflicting emotions from the day’s events. After leaving his uncle Jon had walked around the castle getting the lay of the land so to speak of the place, he still believed would be his home in the future.

He was not impressed.

He’d been raised on stories of how the Night’s Watch was an honorable institution to join and serve. To protect the realm from wildlings and other dangers. To be a sword and shield against darkness. What he found was nothing of the sort. There were a few brothers that were shining examples of the stories he’d heard, his uncle Benjen being one. However, more often then not all he came across were peasants, murders, rapists, thieves and more that had chosen the Wall over execution or losing a hand. The Night’s Watch was less a respected organization of men determined to protect the realm from the dangers beyond the Wall and more like a prison colony where the other kingdoms sent their scum to die.

‘Father never told me this. Even Uncle Benjen didn’t tell me this.’ Jon thought frustratingly. Would he still have made up his mind to join years ago had he been told the truth? He didn’t know. It wasn’t all bad though. His uncle had taken him to the top of the Wall and allowed him to gaze over the horizon. He felt exhilaration at the sight and the feeling of freedom. Should he join the Night’s Watch, he knew he would be spending a lot of time at the top of the Wall.

“Time for bed boy.” Jon said to Ghost. The direwolf lay beside his bed and barely looked at Jon as he relaxed. Jon closed his eyes wishing for peaceful sleep before tomorrow.

He didn’t get his wish.

Jon awoke a short while later in a cold sweat gasping for breath. He could barely remember the nightmare but what he did remember chilled his blood. He’d been atop the wall overlooking the horizon when the sun was blacked out by thick dark clouds and it began to snow. The snow came so hard and fierce that he couldn’t see and suddenly the wind had become a gale that swept him from the top of the Wall. He’d screamed on the way down before hearing a voice.

' _Fly_ '

Jon’s body was halted before it hit the ground and he flew to the far North. He couldn’t describe what he saw, mostly dark and horrible shapes and creatures long thought dead. He saw giants, shadowcats, giant wolves and bears and many more. What he then saw were corpses, except they were moving. With blue eyes and decomposing bodies, they slowly walked around seemingly directionless. Jon looked down at them curiously from on high before as one they stopped and looked up at him. Jon felt his terror increase as the bodies slowly moved aside and the creatures, he’d only heard about in stories from old nan to scare children appeared. Like living ice, they almost glided across the ground. They wore what looked like armor made of translucent ice and all had the same terrifyingly cold deep eyes. They too looked at Jon and the one he could only consider the leader due to the ice spikes growing from his head that almost resembled a crown raised a hand at Jon and the young man suddenly found himself plummeting o the ground once again.

This time he didn’t stop and slammed into the snow-covered earth. He surprisingly wasn’t dead but dream or not he could swear that the cold was robbing him of breath like ice was forming in his lungs. The leader of the creatures slowly walked up to Jon and reached out to try and grab him. Jon found that he couldn’t fight, nor could he move. He didn’t know if it was possible to die in his sleep but felt he was about to find out. Suddenly, as if by an invisible hand, Jon was yanked back into the air and out of the monster’s grasp and flew to another location. He traveled over more forested areas until he came upon a giant weirwood tree. Surprisingly, he didn’t stop but flew down into a hidden cave entrance under the roots. He passed through a series of twists and turns before he finally slowed and was able to stand on his own two legs. He looked around but the cave was dark, the only light being from luminescent moss on the walls. He almost missed the figure staring at him, so entwined in the roots as he was. Jon at first mistook it for a skeleton, like the many lying on the floor around him both animal and human being present. The man was old and gaunt. His skin pale as a corpse and seemingly hanging off his bones. He had long thin white hair and one single glowing red eye. The other had a root growing through it.

“ ** _Awaken_**.” The skeletal man stated, his one red eye glowing.

“What?” Jon had asked. Trying to make sense of the things he had seen.

“ ** _Awaken!_** ” The figure shouted as Jon was sent hurtling through the roots and earth before everything went dark and he found himself gasping for air in his bed.

‘What a dream, or more like a nightmare.’ Jon thought. It couldn’t have been real could it? The White Walkers, Giants and other such creatures were mere myth were they not? Jon looked down at Ghost who was staring back at him.

‘Then again some think direwolves were exaggerated myth and yet here one sits looking at me.’ He thought and he rose to his feet and grabbed his harp. He needed fresh air and a place to play. It would calm his nerves. Ghost rose with him and he headed out into the night after putting on his cloths. The cold air felt good on his hot body and he found himself heading to the large library his uncle had shown him earlier. Jon’s fascination with books and history returned to him as he walked down rows and rows of text.

‘Robb joked at times that I should have been a maester.’ Jon thought with a chuckle remembering just how long he could stay in the Winterfell library and lose track of time until someone, normally Arya, found him. His merriment didn’t last long as he remembered what drove him to find solace in books in the first place and he sat at a nearby table and began to play his harp. He had no true song or melody that he was seeking to make. He simply allowed his fingers to weave their way as they chose and soon the space was filled with a solemn, almost sad tune. Jon played for a while, allowing his mind to relax before he noticed Ghost raise his head at the door. A few seconds later it opened, and an elderly man walked in using a walking stick. Jon rose to help him before the man held up a hand to stop him.

“Please don’t rise on my behalf. I was curious as to whom was making such a wondrous sound.” The old man said as he walked to Jon. Jon inspected the new arrival and knew he had to be almost twice as old as Jon’s father. He was bald, wrinkled, shrunken and from the looks on his face blind. How a blind man had come here by himself Jon didn’t know but he soon amended his thinking when the man turned his head as if looking at Ghost.

“MY name is Jon Snow my lord. Before you is my direwolf Ghost.” Jon replied and he moved over and allowed the elderly man to sit.

“I am no lord Jon Snow. I am a simple maester. Maester Aemon.” The man replied as he sat and surprisingly held his hand out to Ghost to sniff. The direwolf did so and relaxed, which made Jon relax. Ghost had an uncanny ability to sense danger and duplicity. If he was comfortable around the man, then Jon would trust his companion’s judgement.

“Maester Aemon? You couldn’t be Aemon Targaryen, could you?” Jon asked in surprise. Aemon Targaryen would be over a hundred years old by this point. Aemon’s eyes widened in surprise as well.

“I am indeed. I am impressed. Few here recognize that fact. How did you know?” Aemon asked curiously.

“I enjoy reading books and studying history sir. I recognize Aemon as a typical Targaryen name, and I remembered that you came to the Watch after forging your chain and your brother Aegon the fifth ascended the throne.” Jon replied, excited to meet one so old and knowledgeable.

“Many have forgotten or chosen to ignore the history of the Targaryen’s after the war Jon Snow.” Aemon said lowly, as if remembering a bad memory.

“History and learning are never bad things no matter what or whom they may be about. Also, Aemon the Dragon Knight was a hero of mine growing up. I won’t blame an entire family for the actions of a few members.” Jon said earnestly. He felt an immediate kinship with the elderly man that he couldn’t explain. Perhaps it was due to him having a wealth of knowledge that Jon was not privy too.

“Wise words for one so young. Who taught you the harp?” Aemon asked Jon with a strange look on his face.

“I am mostly self-taught.” Jon said. His father never cared for him playing the harp though he didn’t try and stop Jon from doing so, as long as it was only when he was alone or with his sibling, something that still struck Jon as odd.

“Why the harp Jon Snow.” Aemon asked curiously. It was seen as more of a women’s instrument. At most a minstrel would use one but even that was the exception, not the rule.

“I don’t know honestly. It was during a feast that I met a traveling minstrel and he allowed me to keep it after I showed an interest.

“Oh? And where do you call home Jon Snow? Who is your father?” Aemon asked. Given his last name was Snow it was obvious he was from the North, but it was unusual that a Northern Lord would allow their bastard to remain in their household much less attend a feast.

“Eddard Stark.” Jon replied simply and Maester Aemon froze for a second. Jon assumed it was due to the fact that his father was one of the driving forces behind the rebellion and war that destroyed Aemon’s family and steeled himself for any angered words Aemon would speak. In truth Aemon’s thoughts were on a completely different manner.

“Jon Snow if you wouldn’t mind, would you allow this elderly man a favor?” Aemon asked. Jon nodded silently but then remembered that Aemon was blind.

“Of course.” Jon said. He was surprised when Aemon’s wrinkled hand touched his face. He found this odd and a tad bit alarming but didn’t move as the elderly man gently ran his fingers over his brow, nose, cheekbones and even his lips.

‘I should have asked what the favor was before agreeing to it.’ Jon thought in annoyance. Soon enough it was over, and Aemon’s face was a mixture of emotions that Jon couldn’t decipher.

“What is your purpose here Jon Snow.” Aemon asked softly. Despite the last few minutes Jon regained his composure and assumed Aemon’s previous actions were an odd habit for the man and given his advanced years he would give him some latitude.

“I wanted to speak with my uncle Benjen about my future with the Watch.” Jon answered honestly.

“Why would a young man such as yourself choose the Night’s Watch if I may ask. You are not like many that come here now. Not unless you have attempted a crime?” Aemon asked.

“I have not sir. I was told that it was an honorable chose to make with my life.” Jon said shortly, his prior feelings returning.

“You were told you say? I don’t imagine you were informed as to the state that that Watch has fallen into.” Aemon responded gently.

“No, I was not.” Jon said, his temper flaring at both his father and uncle.

“Do you truly understand what you’d be giving up Jon Snow? You would hold no lands, have no wife, father no children. Do you know why these are requirements? Aemon asked him. Jon did not. As a bastard he knew there were no lands he could inherit, and he expected no woman to want to marry him or bear his children, so he’d never thought to deeply as to that part of the vows.

“What is honor compared to a woman’s love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms? Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty.” Aemon said, his eyes misting at the thought of the life he could have lived had he made different decision. He didn’t regret where he was or what he chose but there would always be thoughts of a wife and children he could have had.

“I am a bastard sir. What right do I have to those things?” Jon said angrily as he looked away. He was a bastard, that his father took him in and gave him so many comforts was more then he should have expected but once again he found himself frustrated at the limitations placed upon him due to his birth and the things he could have, even if he wanted them.

“You have every right that anyone born into this world has. As you told me earlier. The family you are born into and the circumstances of your birth doesn’t define you and shouldn’t determine your future.” Aemon said sternly, causing Jon to look at him again.

“It almost sounds like you’re discouraging me from the Watch sir. After looking at it I’d think you could use all the help you can get.” Jon said with a smirk. 

"I have no doubt you’d be one of the best Jon Snow. Hearing your words and knowing you uncle, I could even see you one day being named first ranger or even Lord Commander.” Aemon stated with no trace of sarcasm or humor. The words rocked Jon to the core in surprise. It was one of the few times someone his elder told him what he could do and accomplish rather then what he couldn’t, and he didn’t know how to respond.

“Thank you for the compliment.” Jon said after a minute. Aemon waved it away before speaking again.

“Think nothing of it. I only speak what I believe. It’s refreshing to hold a conversation where the other person doesn’t believe I am senile or about to either fall sleep of die in front of them.” Aemon chuckled causing Jon to do the same.

“You said you were here to talk to Benjen about your future with the Watch. Does this mean you will not be joining today?” Aemon asked carefully once again. Though sightless his eyes seemed to look through Jon.

“Not yet. I need to find out the truth of my mother and my other family through her before I can say the vows.” Jon said.

“I take it Lord Stark did not tell you her identity and Benjen didn’t know it as well either. After what we spoke about Jon Snow answer me this question. What will you do when you find out the truth?” Aemon asked him confusing Jon.

“I’m not sure of your meaning.” Jon said curiously.

“What if the answer you find is not to your liking? Or worse what if it is?” Aemon asked sagely. Jon was stopped short of answering that he would come back and saw the vows as he truly pondered on Aemon’s words.

‘What will I do if she is alive or barring that if she comes from a family that would like to take me in?’ Jon thought to himself. Aemon smiled as he could tell Jon was thinking of his words.

“You don’t have to answer that question to me Jon Snow only yourself. But enough of that for now. If you plan to venture out and find her why are you up so late into the night playing our harp? Shouldn’t you be getting your rest?” Aemon asked curiously. His question brought back Jon’s thought on his dream and a ball of cold ice formed in his chest. Jon didn’t know why but he explained his dream to Aemon. To anyone else, he would keep it to himself lest they think him crazy, but he had a feeling Aemon would not. No surprisingly, Aemon’s eyebrows rose high on his bald head and a deep contemplative look appeared on his face.

“That was quite the dream Jon Snow.” Aemon said after a minute.

“I agree. Is this the part where you tell me it was all a dream and to not let it concern me?” Jon asked somewhat hopefully.

“I could but I don’t like to lie. I’ve lived a long time Jon Snow I have seen things many would call crazy or impossible. Tell me true. Do you believe it to be a simple dream?” Aemon asked him knowingly.

“I don’t know what to believe.” Jon said evasively. Aemon didn’t call him on it, instead allowing Jon to process the validity of it at his own time. That being said it did reinforce a thought that had been nagging the elderly man for a while and he chose to take a leap of faith on this thought and the feeling behind it.

“If you would allow me a moment Jon Snow I must return to my room.” Aemon said as he slowly rose to his feet, leaning on his cane.

“Do you need assistance?” Jon asked as he began to rise. He stopped as Aemon held out a hand again for him to continue to sit.

"Please don’t trouble yourself. I will be back momentarily. Once you’ve walked these halls as long as I have you can find your way around with no light at all.” Aemon said with another chuckle. As he slowly walked out of the door. Jon watched him go and looked down to see Ghost was staring at where Aemon had left. The direwolf had a look in his eyes Jon didn’t recognize. It wasn’t long before he heard the tapping of Aemon’s cane and the door opened. Showing surprising strength for someone who looked so frail, he held something wrapped in a black and red cloth.

“Jon Snow, I wish you good fortune in your quest and want to give you a gift to help you along the way.” Aemon stated as he sat down and handed the cloth wrapped object to Jon. Jon slowly removed the cloth and found that he held a sheathed sword in his hands. Jon pulled the sword out and almost dropped it in shock. The grey ripples that weaved their way through the metal told of it’s original. The handle was wrapped in leather and the pommel had orange metal like small flames coming from it. A red gem sat in the center of the gold cross guard that looked more expensive then Jon could even guess at.

“This is Valyrian steel.” Jon said in reverence. He knew this as Ice, the Stark legendary broad sword was also made of the precious metal though Lord Stark only using it for ceremonies like executions. He, like all of his siblings save Sansa had always marveled at the weapon.

“Yes, it is. What you hold was once held by your childhood hero.” Aemon said with a smile, knowing Jon would connect the dots.

‘My hero? Aemon the dragon knight? It can’t be! Then this sword is…’

“Dark Sister.” Jon whispered. The sword had traveled with one of Aemon’s kin, Bryden Rivers or Blood raven when he had been sent to the wall decades ago and thought missing ever since.

“Correct. I can tell by your tone that you understand the significance of this sword.” Aemon stated.

“I can’t accept this! This is an heirloom of the Targaryen. Queen Visenya herself used it during Aegon’s Conquest over three hundred years ago!” Jon exclaimed, unable to comprehend how Aemon came into possession of the weapon and why he would give it to a bastard of all things.

“Correct. A student of history you are Jon Snow. But you are wrong. I can indeed give it to you. When Brynden came to the wall he quickly became the Lord Commander of the Watch but before he ventured beyond the wall on a mission that he wouldn’t explain to me he handed me the sword and to me to keep it until one worthy came to see me. I didn’t understand his words, he was always so cryptic, but I feel that you are meant to have it. I certainly can’t use it.” Aemon said with a smile and laugh. Jon could only stare that Aemon. He’d only met this man and within an hour he’d delivered to Jon something that many felt was lost to time, never to be found again. There were multiple houses across

the realm that would pay more gold then could be imagined for a regular Valyrian steel sword. But Dark Sister? One of the most ancient and prestigious swords in the history of Westeros? Jon could sell it and his great, great, great ancestors would want for nothing. ‘

I’d never do that. I’d die before allowing this sword to be sold like a piece of bread or barrel of ale.’ Jon thought and he put the sword back in its sheath. He already had the sword that Robb had made for him and was not going to get rid of it by any means. He’d still us that sword for whatever came and would only use Dark Sister if the need called for it. The last thing he needed was to have it stolen or recognize by the wrong people.

“I will always cherish this gift. A hope to one day be worthy of it like the great men and women who used it before me. I promise you that one day I will find some way to repay you.” Jon said as he grabbed Aemon’s hand tightly to let him know his conviction was true.

“If you will forgive an old man’s request then Jon Snow.” Aemon asked grasping his hand just as tightly.

“Anything you ask of me I will try to accomplish it with my dying breath.” Jon swore.

“My family is not completely destroyed. I have a niece and nephew across the Narrow Sea in Braavos. I ask that after you find your mother’s identity that you seek them out and protect them if at all possible. A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing.” Aemon said with his clouded eyes firmly on Jon as he spoke the last of his statement.

“I swear it.” Jon said. He didn’t care that it was treason to say such a thing. It was widely known that King Robert Baratheon hated the Targaryen’s with an almost fanatical passion and would pay handsomely if anyone could kill or capture the last two remaining. To protect them would put at odds with the King od Westeros and all that followed him, but Jon couldn’t find it within him to care in the slightest.

‘I was going to be a Night’s Watchman anyway. That would free me from any jurisdiction of the King.’ Jon thought. Even if he decided not to join then his sword would be there to protect the remaining Targaryens in any way he could.

“Thank you, Jon Snow. I believe it’s time for this old man to retire for the evening. Though if you wouldn’t mind could you do me this last favor? Could you play your harp for me?” Aemon asked. Jon smiled widely as he picked up his harp without a word and began to play. The soft music resonated through the room once again and tears flowed down Aemon’s face. A while later Aemon stood and walked to the door he stopped at the entrance and told Jon one last thing before he left.

“Your journey will be long and hard Jon Snow. I will give you one last piece of counsel, the same I once gave my brother when we parted for the last time, King Argon the fifth. I feel you are too destined for great things. You are half the age of Aegon, whom I called Egg. Kill the boy Jon Snow. Winter will one day be upon us again. Kill the boy and let the man be born.” Aemon said as he closed the door behind him.

Jon sat at the table well into the night pondering these words, his hand never letting go of Dark Sister. The cold chill returned to him and when he eventually went to sleep the cold blue eyes of the White Walkers stared at him


	4. First Friend

(Jon)

The next morning saw Jon wake early and visit Maester Aemon. It was rare that he got to entertain others with his harp, and he wanted to see the Targaryen again before he left on his journey. Though it pained his heart to think about, Jon was well aware that he might not ever see Aemon alive again due to his advanced age. The two broke their fast together and Jon played for him one last time before he older man placed a hand on his shoulder in an almost familial fashion. Neither said a word as Jon was overcome with the urge to gently wrap the man in hug as if he was Jon’s paternal grandfather before he turned to leave.

“I would very much like us to meet again Aemon. I will keep my promise.” Jon said as he left. Never seeing Aemon’s tender smile and tears. Jon met up with Benjen at the stables, making sure to avoid Alliser and his followers. The day would be a great one and he wouldn’t allow ignorance to dampen his mood.

“This is goodbye for now lad. Take care of yourself out there and send a raven or two when you are able.” Benjen said as he pulled out a bag of silver for Jon. It wasn’t much but it would be enough to ensure Jon got a warm meal and place to stay ever couple of nights as long as he rationed it well. Added to what Jon took with him from Winterfell, it should be enough for a couple months’ time.

“I will uncle and thank you.” Jon said. He hesitated for a moment, remembering his dream.

“Uncle, why do you think the wildlings have been coming south so frequently recently?” Jon asked. Benjen frowned in confusion.

“They’ve always done such a thing over the years Jon. You know that.” Benjen replied, not sure where Jon was going with his question.

“I was with father when he killed a night’s watchman deserter. He seemed terrified out of mind. Maybe there is more to this then we know. Perhaps if we could reach an accord with them, we could find the reason and stop more blood being shed.” Jon stated. If his dream wasn’t a dream then the wildlings weren’t coming to conquer, but to escape death.

“Many have tried before Jon. The wildlings and Night’s Watch have had treaties and even fought together in the past, but it always fails eventually. Sometimes peace is impossible between two different types of people.” Benjen said lowly. Jon was silent for a time, he had been raised on stories of the wildlings being savages who would rape, pillage, and murder if given the chance and he knew that to be true to a point.

‘But what makes someone born on the other side of the wall so much more different than us?’ Jon thought to himself.

“I understand Uncle. I just wonder if they have been forming and moving toward the wall to conquer or if there’s something more to it.” Jon said, more to himself then Benjen. Jon’s nightmare of walking dead men and ice creatures was still fresh in his mind. 

“Maybe Jon. Maybe.” Benjen said staring at his nephew with conflicted emotions. He was still not completely sure he was comfortable with Jon taking this journey on his own, even if he did have Ghost and his own protection. He was not blind and saw the sword that was wrapped in a cloth hanging at Jon’s waist. That he’d gotten it from someone at the Watch was apparent, but who and why Benjen didn’t know. 

‘Who would gift him a sword after only meeting him for a day?’ Benjen wanted to ask but decided to leave well enough alone. 

He knew of his nephew’s skill with a blade first hand after watching him spar and Robb and other guards in Winterfell on his last visit. It was safe to say that he pitied anyone that attacked Jon on the road. However, even the greatest of warriors could make a mistake that cost them their lives or could be overwhelmed with superior numbers. In the end though. He had to trust in Jon and let him make his own decisions. He doubted the lad would let anything stop him anyway now that his mind was made up.

‘He’s a lot like Brandon and Lyanna in that way.’ Benjen thought wistfully with a stab of pain that always accompanied thoughts of his two deceased siblings.

“I’ll think on your words Jon. Old God’s know that we’ve spilt enough blood fighting the wildlings. If there was a way to ensure lasting peace, I’d take it.” Benjen said.

He wrapped Jon in a hug and watched as the young man saddled his horse and turned to leave with Ghost at his side. Benjen heard a door open and looked up to see Maester Aemon come from the library and seemingly star in Jon’s direction despite his lack of eyesight. It still marveled Benjen that Aemon seemed to be able to see more without his eyes than others could who had full use of them. Benjen turned back as the gates of castle Black closed behind Jon and Benjen was once again the only one of Stark heritage at the Wall.

‘Much as I’d love you to come here. I feel your future is ahead of you Jon. Stay safe.’ Benjen thought as he turned and was surprised to see Aemon was now staring in his direction. Making a decision Benjen moved to the stairs to have a conversation with the elderly man.

A few days later Jon was washing his face in a small stream while Ghost drank from the water. They’d been traveling for a few days south and Jon felt they were making good time. He’s plan was fairly simple, he would conserve his money, only staying at inns and keeps if the weather turned bad. He was content with the freeing feeling of resting under the stars hunting his own food or sharing with the game that Ghost was able to track and kill for them. He would travel south until he reached Dorne. 

‘I can’t board a ship to Dorne. I don’t have enough money to achieve that, and that’s not even mentioning Ghost. I doubt a captain would allow a direwolf on board for the time it would take to reach the southern most region of Westeros.’ Jon thought to himself. Jon also wanted to see more of the kingdoms. Should he decide to one day join the Watch he couldn’t leave so why not taken in as much of the continent that he could. 

Jon stood and grabbed his swords. He practiced every day with Dark Sister planning to be a worthy wielder of the legendary blade. Valyrian steel was said to be lighter but much stronger than any other metal and swords forged from it never lost their edge. He had to get used to the lighter blade and familiarize himself with its reach, grip and movements. Ser Rodrick always told him and Robb that a weapon needed to be an extension of the wielder. Though the blade was most likely superior than most others he would not rely solely on his weapon to win a battle, he would train his body and mind as well.

Jon also toyed around with the idea of duel wielding Dark Sister with his regular sword. He didn’t want to neglect either blade as both were gifts from those precious to him, despite how brief his meeting with Aemon was, and with Dark Sister being a lighter sword it wouldn’t tire him as it would if he used two regular swords at once. He’s practiced a bit with it but knew he had a while to go before he could say he was proficient. 

Jon had only gotten through a few of his forms, practicing his footwork, before he heard cries for help and the sound of weapons clashing. Ghost was instantly at his side and Jon moved to investigate. Through the trees further down along the main road Jon saw several figures fighting around a carriage, there were more than a few that were on the ground unmoving and likely dead. Jon took a moment to study what was going on. He had no idea what this battle was about and honestly had no reason to interfere. 

That changed when the last one of what Jon could only assume was the guards protecting the carriage fell to the two remaining attackers and they pulled a large body from the carriage. Whoever they were, they were begging for mercy on their knees and appeared to be crying. The two figures seemed to laugh and kick at the figure and Jon felt his blood ignite in anger. Whoever they were, they seemed to be enjoying abusing the man and Jon would have none of it.

‘It’s not my business but I can’t very well allow what looks like bandits to kill someone.’ Jon thought and he turned to Ghost and moved forward. The two figures were not paying Jon any attention, having their backs to his approach and continuing to kick the downed man and seemed to be determining who would kill him. 

Jon didn’t allow himself to hesitate. To hesitate would be to put himself in danger. Jon pulled out his sword and stabbed one of the men through the chest. He didn’t even have time to process that he’d made his first kill before he pulled the sword free, allowing the dying man to cry out weakly as he fell to his knees and turned to the other. To his credit, though he was surprised the remaining bandit turned, assessed the new threat and broke his word to bear on Jon.

This was Jon’s first time in actual combat. It wasn’t like the sparring that they did in Winterfell, there would be no yielding, one of them would die. Jon felt fear creep into his heart as he continued to cross swords with the bandit. He was not as skilled as Jon but was older and stronger and obviously had been in more than one fight in his life. Regardless, Jon controlled his frantically beating heart, remembered his training, and waited until the man made a mistake before sliding his sword into his belly. The man made a chocked cough of surprise at the move and dropped his sword. He too fell to his knees but didn’t die instantly. He seemed to be trying to say something but only blood came from his throat. Soon enough he stopped moving and his eyes lost their light. Jon stood frozen at the sight. He’s just killed not one but two men in as many minutes and the smell of blood, piss and defecation hit his nose. Jon quickly moved behind a tree and puked his guts out. He looked to the blood coating his sword and his hand and tried to stop his body from shivering. 

“Um e-excuse me.” 

Jon turned to the man who had gotten to his feet. Upon closer inspection Jon saw that this was no man but a young lad close to his age if he guessed correctly. The young man was very fat, with dark hair, pale eyes and a large moon shaped face that was wet with tears. Jon quickly composed himself and kept his sword ready. He still didn’t have any idea who this person was and though he’d saved him from the two he wasn’t about to let his guard down. The young man seemed to perceive this as he held his hands up and fresh tears began to run down his face.

“W-wait please! I will not harm you. I only want to give you my thanks.” He said as he raised his hands in submission and backed away. 

He just so happened to pump into Ghost, who like his namesake seemed to appear behind the young man without a sound. He turned and noticing the large direwolf gave a shout of fear and fell to his backside. Jon looked to his companion and sensing that Ghost wasn’t wary of the figure in the snow clean his sword and put it away before helping the young man to his feet.

“Who are you? What happened here?” Jon asked after he got the man to calm down and ensured him that Ghost wasn’t going to eat him.

“I-I am Samwell Tarly.” He managed to say, finally tearing his eyes off of Ghost to look back at Jon.

“Tarly? I recognize the name. Your family is one of the more powerful bannermen in the Reach. What are you doing all the way up here?” Jon asked curiously. Samwell’s eyes widened at Jon’s knowledge of his house given that it was so much farther south than their current location but answered none the less.

“I was on my way to join the Night’s Watch. These men set upon my party looking for loot.” Sam said turning and explaining the dead bodies. In doing so he seemed to finally recognize the dead bodies around him and the same smell that Jon had noticed before and he was quickly behind a tree throwing up as well. He fell to his knees and once again seemed to weep, and Jon felt the urge to pat the young man on the back in sympathy.

“I am sorry for your loss. These men fought bravely to protect you” Jon said awkwardly. He was unused to comforting others save for his siblings and he had not personally lost anyone he could consider a friend before, so he was unsure if he as doing any good. Samwell stopped weeping after a time before looking to Jon again.

“I wouldn’t exactly call them my friends. Many didn’t like me.” Sam said softly. Jon frowned at this, more confused than before.

“What is your name?” Sam asked curiously.

“Jon Snow. This is Ghost.” Jon said introducing himself as well as Ghost. Reasonably sure that Ghost wasn’t going to eat him anymore, Sam’s eyes lite up and he turned to Jon excitedly.

“He’s much bigger than a regular wolf. Could he honestly be a direwolf? They haven’t been seen south of the wall for hundreds of years!” Sam said in wonder. Jon was again thrown off by how quickly Sam went from frightened and tearful to excited and inquisitive but shrug his shoulders and moved toward the bodies. 

“I will explain as we finish here.” Jon said as he leaned down towards one of the bandits. It still made him slightly nauseous, but he needed to do it.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked fearfully again, not at all comfortable around the dead bodies.

“We need to bury them. Friends or not they gave their lives for you and they deserve a proper burial.” Jon said, though he didn’t really know how he would accomplish this. He had no tools for digging and the ground was too cold and hard to do it by hand. A solution came from Ghost coming beside Jon and seeming to know what he wanted began to dig int eh ground. Jon smiled, this would be quick work with Ghost helping.

“I-I understand.” Sam said though he looked green in the face and Jon wondered if he would actually be able to even get close to the bodies much less put them in the holes Ghost was digging.

Sam proved of a tougher sort than Jon took him for as either guilt from seeing Jon doing the work alone or for the men dying for him won out and he slowly walked over and helped Jon. The work took a few hours but soon the men were all buried. Jon had checked the bodies of the bandits for any items he could use and unsurprisingly found very little, thought the guards did with their armor and weapons. They finished the work but once they did it was well into the afternoon and Jon invited Sam to share a fire with him. He didn’t want to young man he’d killed to protect to die of the cold wondering at night. 

Jon quickly discovered that Sam really didn’t know anything about survival. He couldn’t start a fire, didn’t know how to hunt or even how to prepare the three hares that Jon caught to be eaten. It annoyed Jon but Sam looked so sad at his failings that Jon let it go. No use beating someone up who was doing it to themselves. As they sat around the fire eating the hares Jon sat in contemplation of what Sam had shared over the last few hours.

Samwell Tarly was the eldest son of Randyll Tarly the Lord of Horn Hill in the Reach. He had a younger brother and sister and a loving mother. However, his father disapproved of having such a “weak” heir. Sam didn’t like to fight, couldn’t use weapons, and preferred reading and eating to hunting and training. His father considered him a failure and a waste of an heir and demanded that Sam take the black so his younger brother Dickon whom Randyll considered a much better prospect as the ruler of Horn Hill to become the new heir. 

Jon felt his blood boil as Sam had informed him of his father’s opinions and once again could only give a small bit of thanks that Lord Stark was not such a man. His lord father believed that every man held worth though not all were talented in the same fields. For example, Jon was widely agreed upon as being the best swordsman in Winterfell even at his age, but Jon was not as good as Robb was in lances and, though he hated to admit it, Theon was in archery. Sansa could sing and dance, two things Jon couldn’t do. Arya was amazing at stealth and sneaking into placing and no one could out climb Bran. Jon could tell just from speaking to him that Samwell had a vast wealth of knowledge as supported by his love of books and found a bit of a kindred spirit from his own fascination with history.

“Your father is wrong. Just because you don’t want to fight, or kill doesn’t make you weak.” Jon said suddenly, almost making Sam drop his rabbit in surprise. Sam turned to him and in his eyes, Jon saw pain, sadness, disbelief, and fear.

‘He would not do well at Castle Black.’ Jon thought to himself. EH could only imagine how many of the recruits would treat Sam, especially if Alliser was the trainer of new recruits. He wouldn’t put it past the man to perform cruel acts and dish out unwarranted punishments in the name of “toughening them up”. Jon asked Sam a question that surprisingly struck himself deeply.

“Sam you don’t want to join the Night’s Watch, do you?” Jon asked. Though his father had seemingly forced him to do so Jon wanted to know what Sam wanted. For all he knew Sam had come to accept his fate and decided it was what he wanted to do.

“I don’t have a choice Jon I have to join.” Sam said sadly turning away.

“No, you don’t. You always have a choice Sam. What do you truly want to do?” Jon asked intensely. Sam flinched from Jon’s tone but after a few minutes looked to Jon.

“I always wanted to be a maester.” Sam said softly, as if expecting Jon to laugh at him. Jon nodded approvingly.

“I can see that. You seem smart Sam and you know your history from what little I’ve spoken with you. I think you’d be a great maester.” Jon replied. Sam’s eyes once again widened with fear that Jon was teasing him but upon looking at Jon’s face saw that he believed ever word.

“Thank you Jon. You’re the first person to say that to me and believe it.” Sam said as he looked down in happiness. Jon smiled, pleased that he was able to cheer up the young man and leaned back to look at the stars, something he’d made a habit of recently.

“Jon?” Jon turned to look at Sam who had an interested look on his face.

“Why are you out here all alone? I know from your name that you..well” Sam began hesitantly.

“I’m a bastard Sam. It’s alight to say it.” Jon said without a hint of anger or pain. He knew Sam wasn’t a malicious person and even if he had been Jon wouldn’t allow that word to hurt him ever again.

“If you don’t mind my asking. Who is your father?” Sam asked, wanting to know the man that raised his savior.

“Eddard Stark.” Jon said quietly. He still felt conflicted when thinking of his father. On one hand Jon was furious about his refusal to tell Jon who his mother was or even the truth about the Night’s Watch and what kind of men were there. On the other hand, Jon could tell from speaking with Sam that he was still fortunate to have a father like Ned Stark who actually loved his children, never looked down on them as lesser for any reason and gave Jon a far better up bringing than other bastard or even true born children enjoyed if Sam was any indication.

“Lord Eddard Stark! The Lord of Winterfell.” Sam said in surprise and he once again gained the look his face Jon was starting to recognize meant he’d found a puzzle he wanted to solve and learn as much as he could about. 

“Aye.” Jon said shortly. Sam seemed to sense that Jon didn’t want to talk about it and let it go.

“So where are you going Jon?” Sam asked returning to his earlier question to change the subject.

“I’m actually heading to Dorne Sam.” Jon said with a wistful look on his face.

“All the way down there? What’s in Dorne?” Sam asked curiously.

“Hopefully my mother.” Jon answered truthfully seeing no reason to hide it from Sam. Mayhaps he was too trusting but something about Sam set him at ease. Sam for his part was quiet. His mother and sister were the only family members that loved him. His brother wasn’t all bad, but he ignored Sam in favor of being the favorite child of their father. Sam didn’t know what he would have done without his mother caring for him and protecting him as much as she was able from his father’s brutal tactics.

“Well I haven’t known you for long, but I imagine she’d be pleased that you saved someone you didn’t even know from bandits.” Sam said encouragingly. Jon looked up to him and gave a smile of appreciation. Having someone reaffirm that this quest would have a happy ending for him was comforting. 

“What will you do Sam? No one can force you to take the black if you don’t want to.” Jon asked him. Sam was silent for a time before looking up to Jon encouragingly. 

“I owe you my life Jon. If it’d be alright, I’d be honored if you’d let me accompany you and help you find your mother in Dorne.” Sam said shakily, fearing rejection. In truth there was little Sam could do physically to help Jon. He was no fighter, cook or healer but he did have his mind and being from the Reach he knew all about the noble houses of Dorne and their customs, despite the centuries’ bad blood between the two regions. 

Jon was surprised by the offer and didn’t answer for a minute. He saw Sam look down nervously as he continued to think on the offer. He truthfully didn’t know Sam despite their conversations and insight into he’s past. The fact remained that Sam could be a skilled liar, despite how highly doubtful that was it had to be considered. 

‘I would be nice to have some company and he does know about Dorne given he was the heir of arguably the second stronger house in the Reach.’ Jon thought. As he always did, he turned to Ghost, his closest companion, to gauge his opinion in the matter. Some would think that odd, but Jon had learned to trust Ghost instincts without question. Ghost looked back and relaxed beside the fire telling Jon all he needed to know.

“Thank you Sam. I’d be happy to have you accompany me.” Jon said, surprising Sam who looked up with wide eyes.

“I’ve never been outside of the North. I’d be a great help to have you with me. And who knows afterward maybe we can sneak you into the citadel.” Jon said with a smile. Sam’s jaw dropped at the statement. Jon gave a short chuckle before deciding to rest for the evening. He knew just how long of a trip was before them and wanted to get an early start. Sam saw his intention and moved to do the same.

‘I think I’ve made my first friend from the south.’ Jon thought as he allowed the warmth of the fire to lull him to sleep. He didn’t fear an ambush at night from either man or creature. Ghost would be aware of them long before he ever could and would awake Jon if need be.

Over the next few weeks Jon and Sam moved swiftly through the North heading towards the Neck, the region that separated the dominion of the North from the Riverlands. During that time the two quickly cemented their friendship through their shared rough childhoods as well as their love of book and history. Jon decided that it would be a good idea to help Sam learn to properly defend himself but was quickly frustrated with just how inept Sam was with a sword or any other weapon that Jon was well versed in. 

Sam openly admired Jon’s movements during his morning training but when he held a sword, he turned green in the face and began to tremble. Jon was unsure of how to get through to Sam that a weapon could not hurt anyone. It all fell to the wielder of the weapon, but it appeared his father had caused quite a bit of damage to Sam’s self confidence and self-worth. Should he ever meet the man, Jon wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep from punching Lord Tarly in the face. The most he was able to get Sam to do was attempt to draw a bow. They’d taken what possessions they could from the bandits and the guards and piled them onto the wagon they pulled behind them. Jon personally didn’t care for the bow, though he respected those that were skilled in it. His father had always felt the same.

‘When you kill a man, you owe it to him to look him in the eyes when doing it. If you can’t do that, perhaps the man didn’t deserve to die at all.’ Jon recalled Eddard Stark saying once when he, reluctantly, spoke about the wars he’d fought in.

Jon lay beside Ghost looking at the stars as Sam slept. Try as he might Jon couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow they would cross the Neck and enter the Riverlands. He would be leaving the North for the first time in his life. He also felt a bit apprehensive about entering the lands of Lady Stark’s birth but shook it out quickly enough. He would not judge a region just because he had a bad experience with one person from there. 

Another reason he’d been losing sleep recently was the dreams. He didn’t dream about White Walkers anymore, but he did find himself dreaming that he was Ghost and remembered running through the woods and hunting game. He remembered stalking his prey and the exhilaration of bringing down a deer. He remembered the taste of fresh flesh and blood in his mouth and how he would look in the distance and feel his packmates. While he missed them, he was content with his partner and the larger but kindly new human in their group. 

Jon shook his head and stood up as he tried to pull his thoughts away. He looked to Ghost and was not at all surprised to see the Direwolf looking directly at him. They’d always had a strong bond, but he’d never actually had a dream so vivid that he would swear on the gods Old and New that he was inside of Ghost’s body.

‘Old Nan told stories about those who could enter into the minds of animals. Skin-changers she called them.’ Jon thought to himself. He didn’t tell Sam about these dreams. He knew how crazy it would have sounded. Jon decided to try and burn off some energy and began to practice his swordsmanship. He was getting used to duel wielding his swords but still favored his old over Dark Sister for the moment. After awhile he stopped and felt himself grow tired and decided to sleep. As he always did, he leaned into Ghost’s body and closed his eyes.

‘Tomorrow I leave the North. One more step towards my mother and the truth.’ Jon thought.

The next morning Jon and Sam moved into the Riverlands. Jon was amazed at how much green he saw, from the trees, to the grass to a multitude of flora that he’d only read about in books. He was mesmerized and turned to Sam to explain everything that he knew of the Riverlands. Sam was only to happy to do so and regaled Jon with tales and stories that even Jon didn’t know, despite his fondness for book and history. They decided to stay in an inn and get a warm meal and loggings for the night. Jon was being very frugal with their money and didn’t want to spend excessively but he felt like celebrating, as silly as that seemed. Sam was only to happy to agree, not used to sleeping outdoors and without the comforts of his home. Jon once again knew he’d made the right decision with allowing Sam to accompany him. He shuddered to think what they would have done to him at the Wall. Jon allowed Ghost to remain in the surrounding woods as he and Sam entered the inn and enjoyed a night of comfort. Over a warm bowl of soup and watered-down wine, they discussed their next destination.

“Jon, I believe that we should take a ship to Starfall.” Sam said as they ate, greatly appreciating the warm meal.

“Why do you say that?” Jon asked curiously.

“I have no doubt that we can reach Dorne by traveling the King’s road but it’s going to be difficult to navigate the sands of Dorne without a guide and I don’t believe they will take kindly to me being a Tarly.” Sam said. Over the last few weeks Sam’s confidence had very slowly begun to raise to the point that he didn’t immediately apologize or look down in expectation of a harsh word or look from Jon.

“I had thought about that myself Sam but what about Ghost? I doubt there are a lot of ships that will allow a full grown direwolf onboard.” Jon said thoughtfully.

“True but pay a man enough money and you’d be surprised what he’ll do.” Sam recited. Jon smirked a bit at that.

“If you hadn’t noticed Sam, we don’t have a lot of money.” Jon said with a chuckle, though he didn’t disagree with the statement.

“But we do have items we took from the dead bodies. We could sell them, and it might give us enough for a ship.” Sam said. Jon thought on this for a few minutes before agreeing.

“Where should we go to sell our items?” Jon asked his friend.

“If we turn east, we could go to King’s Landing.” Sam suggested. Jon froze at the statement. 

‘King’s Landing? That where my uncle and grandfather were killed by the Mad King all those years ago. It’s also where Aegon the conqueror landed when the Targaryens began their conquest of Westeros. Could I possibly find information about Aemon’s remaining family there?’ Jon thought to himself as he contemplated Sam’s offer. A ship would be ideal, and they’d definitely be able to sell their items to a blacksmith as well. He’d have to leave Ghost outside of the city to roam but knew he could call the direwolf to him without hassle when the need called for it.

“Alright Sam. To King’s Landing.” Jon said as he raised his cup. Sam did the same and the two friends prepared for the next stop in their journey.

The next day they turned east towards King’s landing. Jon was thankful that they hadn’t encountered any trouble along the road from bandits and continued to train every morning. Sam had gained the confidence to shoot his bow a bit more and the two friends continued heading towards the capital of the country until one evening as the sun began to set, they came to the crossing of the Trident and the Ruby Ford. Jon and Sam took a few minutes for their horses and Ghost to drink water as they began to set up camp. They would cross in the morning and continue to head towards King’s landing. Later as they sat around the fire, Jon became lost in thought once Sam began explaining the history of the Ruby Ford. 

‘The location of the Battle of the Trident where my father’s best friend and future king Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar Targaryen and crushed the loyalist army. It gained his named when Robert’s War hammer smashed into Rhaegar’s breast plate that was lined with rubes in the shape of the Targaryen three headed dragon symbol. The rubies scattered into the river and both armies stopped fighting to try and grab the gems.’ Jon thought as he allowed Sam to get lost in his explanations, as he was want to do. 

Jon always held strange feelings when he thought of the dead Targaryen Prince. Those in the North seemed to hate him and agree that he kidnapped his aunt Lyanna and inadvertently started Robert’s rebellion. However, the thing that stopped Jon from thinking the same was that his father never uttered a bad word about the fallen prince. If anyone brought up the subject during a feast or meeting, Ned would grow quite with a contemplative look on his face but never showed any anger or rage. Ned rarely talked about the wars he’d been in, but Jon and his siblings were always hungry for information and every now and again Ned would divulge a few little details. During these stories Ned’s face would lose its cool demeanor as he became lost in the memories and it was easier to read his feelings about certain events. 

‘If anyone would have a right to hate the Targaryens and Rhaegar especially it would be father, but he doesn’t do so. In fact, I overheard Lord Umber and a few of the others that took place in the Rebellion mention that father almost came to blows with Robert Baratheon for the murder of Rhaegar’s wife, Princess Elia Martell and their two young children.’ Jon thought to himself and if true he found himself agreeing with his father. 

No matter what the crimes of the parents, innocent children should not be judged or killed for them. Jon knew these thoughts came from his own treatment but felt it was true regardless of his admittedly biased opinion. Sam seemed to recognize that Jon had begun to think deeply, or ‘brood’ as Jon had joking called it and allowed his friend his space as he went back to the wagon and began polishing the armor and weapons. They’d fetch a greater price the shinier they were. Jon shook himself from his thoughts and moved to go to sleep.

Jon’s dreams were of battle, men’s cries of mercy, blood-soaked earth and of the personal battle between two men. He couldn’t understand what he was seeing before one of the men slammed a massive war hammer into the chest of the other, scattering rubies and sending the man to the water. He tried to speak a single word before he went motionless and sank below the water’s surface. Jon then heard a single word.

‘Awaken!’ 

Jon awake with a gasp of air, his face covered in sweat and his body trembling even with the mild evening temperature and fire roaring. Sam was still asleep in the wagon and Ghost turned to look at his partner before Jon climbed to his feet and moved to the river. He fell to his knees and began to splash water in his face trying to calm his racing heart. Jon took deep breathes and looked out among the still water. There was a full moon and the light sparkled over the river. Jon stood to move back to camp when he saw the moon light reflecting off of something red in the water.  
He didn’t know why but the light called to him and he quickly removed his boots and cloak and dove into the water. In doing so his vision turned black beneath the depths of the river but he struggled forward towards the red light. Soon enough his hand reached towards it and grasped something small but hard. Jon moved back to land and as always was unsurprised to see Ghost awake and waiting for him. Jon stood before his direwolf and looked down at his hand. A small red piece of ruby sparkled brilliantly in the palm of his hand. Unsure of what to think about this Jon walked back to the campsite with Ghost.

He sat in silence in front of the fire long into the night.


	5. King's Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First off I was to say I'm very disappointed with season eight has progressed. It's almost like Bad Fanfiction. I've seen tons of stories on this site much better than the trash they're showing us on HBO. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter we see Jon and Sam explore King's Landing and meeting new people on their next stop of their Journey.

( **Jon** )

Jon marveled at the size of King’s Landing. He knew it was bigger than any city in the North but reading about it and seeing it were two completely separate experiences. They entered through the Gate of the Gods and while Jon didn’t follow the Faith of the Seven even, he was impressed with the carvings of the seven faces on the gate. He and Sam didn’t have too much trouble after informing the city watch that they were selling old weapons and armor for money, though Jon was incensed when they’d had to pay an….entrance fee. Jon had left Ghost in the woods outside of the city for safety and to avoid unwanted questions.

“Jon, I will go and find someone who I think will give us a fair price.” Sam said as he drove the cart.

Sam had been to King’s Landing before with his father a number of years ago and truly felt in his element when discussing numbers and a fair price for goods bought or sold. Jon was more than happy to allow Sam to take the lead and with a promise to meet back at Cobbler’s Square in a few hours, Jon ventured into the city founded by Aegon Targaryen more than three hundred years before.

Jon looked up and saw the Red Keep, where the royal family lived. He saw the remains of the dragon pit sitting atop the Hill of Rhaenys and began to head in that direction. Though Jon was amazed at the number of people around him he couldn’t help but notice the smell of unwashed bodies, piss and feces. He soon found himself in what Sam told him was Flea Bottom, the poorest part of the city. Jon saw people wearing little more than scraps of cloths, naked children ran around in filth to their parents to eat from bowl that from the smell contained thins no person should have to eat. Beggars were everywhere holding out empty bowls pleading for food or coin.

‘How can the greatest city on the continent have its small folk live like this?’ Jon thought to himself angrily. He got more than a few looks for his cloths and weapons he kept on his person. He wanted to help but was unsure of how he could and also didn’t want trouble. Desperate people would do desperate things. Jon had very little remaining money on him and felt helpless to do anything.

Making a decision, Jon sat beside some beggars and pulled out his harp. He closed his eyes and began to play. The soft sounds of his harp soon washed over the area and all conversations and playing stopped for the few minutes that Jon played. Soon enough He opened his eyes and was stunned to see a crowd around him. They all clapped and some of the more well to do travel like him that had been walking through Flea Bottom threw him some coppers and Jon even saw a silver in the mix. As the crowd dispersed Jon picked up the coins and began to give them to the beggars around him. The silver he dropped into the bowl of an elderly woman. Jon was moving to leave when her hand reached out and grabbed his. She looked to him with tears in her eyes and Jon realized that she was blind.

“It’s been so long since you’ve come to visit us.” She said with a smile. Jon was stunned into silence and could only assume she was confusing him for someone else.

“Your music is still so beautiful and sad. Have you not yet found the happiness you seek?” She continued curiously. Seeing her reminded him a little of Maester Aemon and Jon felt his heart soften as he decided to play along and comfort to woman.

“Aye I am still looking.” He said softly as he rubbed her hand.

“You will find it. This old woman may not know a lot but I know you’ll find that happiness. When you do please return and play for me again.” She said as he helped her rise and she took her walking stick to a vendor that could give her better food then the bowls filled with brown sludge Jon had seen previously.

Jon had a smile on his face at the interaction which swiftly fell when he realized that he had helped the small folk today but tomorrow they would be in their same positions begging for help.

‘A King shouldn’t allow this to take place in his city.’ Jon though as his mood soured a bit and he moved on. Jon soon returned to Cobbler’s Square and met with Sam.

“Jon, I believe I have found someone that will pay a fair price for our goods.” Sam said happily. His continued time with Jon was making him a bit more confident in his skills and he no longer saw them as useless or ‘women’s work’ as his father would constant berate him for.

“That’s great news Sam. Who is it?” Jon asked, brought out his previously melancholy by the information.

“A blacksmith by the name of Tobho Mott. He would like to speak with you as well.” Sam stated.

“I’ve no issue with that. Lead the way Sam.” Jon said with a nod. He wanted to get this done before the end of the day and the sun was moving into the evening sky. It didn’t take them long to reach their destination and Jon once again marveled at how big King’s Landing was that he had spent most of his day exploring and hadn’t reached this party of the city.

Tobho Mott’s house was made of timber and plaster and was larger than the surrounding buildings. The upper stories towered over the street and it looked as if he lived above his shop. Jon followed Sam through the large double doors, and he heard the sounds of workers working steel and felt the heat from the forge. Tobho was a balding man with a short grey beard and an apron. He shook Jon’s hand and it was the hand of a worker, tough calloused and strong.

“I hear you’re the man to talk to about our deal?” Tobho said directly neither asking Jon’s name nor going through normal pleasantries. Jon liked it as he preferred getting directly to the point of a conversation.

“I am. Sam tells me that you offer fair price.” Jon responded strongly. He had a feeling Tobho was sizing him up and would not back down. After a few seconds of him staring the blacksmith broke a small smile on his face and nodded to the two sword Jon had on his waist.

“Those for sell too?” He asked suddenly.

“I’m afraid not. Both were gifts. I will never part with them.” Jon said. He wasn’t offended by the request and if anything was impressed. Tobho was a man that obviously knew his trade well and he’d quickly seen the hits of Jon’s sword and determined them to be of potential high quality.

“Mind if I take a look at them?” The blacksmith continued to inquire. At this Jon did raise an eyebrow.

“For what purpose. I already told you they aren’t for sell.” He said with a bit of steel in his voice. Sam looked momentarily worried, not wanting a fight but also not wanting to be taken advantage off either.

“Just want to take a look. Promise I won’t do nothing to them. Call it professional curiosity. I want to see what quality they are. Like to see if it’s up to snuff.” Tobho said. Jon debated this but decided to not threaten the potential bargain and swiftly let the man hold his regular blade. Tobho pulled it out and looked it over for a bit before giving a nod and returned it to Jon.

“I can tell you used it recently. It’s very good quality steel and the smith that forged it knew what he was doing.”

Jon nodded at the assessment and felt his estimation of Tobho rise that he’d been able to determine that Jon had used his sword previously. Tobho nodded to Dark Sister but Jon placed a hand on it and shook his head.

“Mayhaps after we reach an agreement, I’ll let you take a look.” Jon said firmly. He could see that Tobho had an eager look on his face and wanted to use it as possible leverage to get a better deal. The blacksmith grunted in irritation but gave a nod and called someone over.

“Gendry get over here.”

Jon looked at a tall, broad man about Robb’s age appeared from the back. From his clothes and the size of his arms he was obviously a smith as well or at least training to become one. Gendry had hair and black as night and deep blue eyes. He gave Jon and Sam and easy smile that Jon couldn’t help but return.

“Yes sir.” Gendry asked.

“You took a look at the items they brought in before. Tell me your opinion.” Tobho commanded.

“It’s all of fairly high quality. The weapons however were made a bit sub-standard and you can see some imperfections in the armor as well. Good in a pinch but we could make better. That being said I think we could use them.” Gendry replied seriously.

‘He obviously takes his job and skills very seriously.’ Jon thought. Tobho nodded his agreement and told Jon and Sam what his offer was. Jon, not well versed at all if it was fair, looked to Sam who agreed with the price.

“It’s an agreement then.” Jon said as he shook Tobho’s hand and the man gave Sam a bag of silver and a few gold dragons.

“Now then about that sword?” Tobho said expectantly. Jon was on guard in case the reveal caused Tobho to go back on his word but none the less handed Dark Sister to the older man. Tobho’s eyes narrowed when he pulled out the sword, but they didn’t widen in marvel or surprise like Jon had thought they might.

‘He’s no stranger to Valyrian steel.’ Jon thought.

“This blade is one of the finest I’ve ever seen. Doubt even I could forge something like this.” Tobho stated as he called Gendry over to take a look.

“Is that Valyrian steel!” Gendry exclaimed. Tobho smacked him upside his head to keep his voice down and Jon knew then he could trust the blacksmith to not say or do anything underhanded.

“Sorry it’s my first time seeing it.” Gendry apologized to Jon. Jon silently nodded in acceptance and took the sword back from the blacksmith.

“Come see me if you ever need that sword worked on. I’m one of the few in the land that knows how to work that steel.” Tobho said. Jon again nodded and shook both his and Gendry’s hands.

“What’s your name by the way?” Gendry asked curiously. Seeing no harm in it, Jon answered truthfully.

“Jon Snow. Would you happen to know of a place to get some food and rest?” Jon asked as he and Sam prepared to leave.

“Aye I do. I’d like to join you if I could.” Gendry said with a smile. Jon returned it with a nod and Gendry put away his things and told them to follow him. Jon felt like celebrating for a bit. He was one step closer to his goal. He’d have some fun tonight and tomorrow they would seek out a ship to take them to Starfall.

( **Benjen** )

Benjen Stark ran with all his strength through the ice and snow, only a small lantern bringing him warmth and light. He couldn’t stop, to stop would be to die. Though he couldn’t see them he knew death was right behind him.

‘How did things turn out this way.’ He thought to himself as he had to stop and try and catch his breath for precious few seconds before moving again.

After Jon had left, things had returned to normal at Castle Black. Alliser was still a headache to be dealt with but that was nothing new. Benjen found himself spending more time with Aemon. He never held any ill will towards to old Targaryen but neither had he ever truly sat with and spoken to him. After seeing Jon emerge from the Maester’s room before his departure he’d finally had a conversation with Aemon and found him to be a wise and insightful man.

A few days later they heard horns from beyond the wall and opened the gate to returning brothers. However, none of them were expecting to see two members pulling a third who Benjen recognized as the ranger Otho behind them on a sled, both looking terrified and half frozen. They were quickly given food and put in front of a fire to warm up and explain what happened. Otho had sadly already died and was placed in a room to have his body examined by Aemon before he was to be burned the following morning.

His two brothers were speaking nonsense. They spoke of seeing whole wildling settlements abandoned. They spoke of seeing dead bodies ripped apart and mutilated. Lastly, they spot of seeing dead bodies rising and attacking them. Commander Mormont believed the men to have turned half crazed due to the cold and ordered them to rest for the night and determined that he would speak to them again in the morning.

That night Benjen was awoken from his sleep by a tapping on his window. He looked to it and saw the commander’s raven outside cawing frantically and flying off. Benjen, disturbed by the action grabbed his sword and went to awaken the Lord Commander. As he neared the commander’s door his saw it had been ripped from its hinges and he heard a commotion inside. Benjen pulled out his sword and ran through the opening. Otho was holding Commander Mormont up in the air with one hand, strangling the Old Bear. It alone was shocking enough, given that Jeor Mormont was a very large man, but what chilled Benjen’s blood were the inhuman, glowing blue eyes that gazed at him when Otho turned to look at him.

Not wasting any time, Benjen moved forward and brought his sword down on Otho’s arm, severing it and dropping Jeor to the ground. Otho didn’t react in the least to having lost an arm and attacked Benjen. Benjen stabbed Otho through the chest but it had no effect. Otho hit Benjen in the face with a backhand with strength that no normal man should possess. Benjen lost grip of his sword and was slammed into the wall. Jeor was still on the ground, coughing and trying to get his bearings. Benjen knew he was on his own. He tasted blood in his mouth and was sure he also had a broken nose. Regardless he rose and ducked out of the way of the attacking Otho. Lacking his weapon, Benjen quickly served the room and grabbed the lantern hanging on the wall. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out at the burns that were forming on his hand before he slammed the lantern onto Otho.

Otho gave off an inhuman cry as the flames spread over his form. He burned as if he’d been doused in oil and soon fell to the ground and did no rise. Benjen fell to his knees gasping for breath despite how quickly the fight had taken.

“By the Old Gods!” Jeor wheezed as he finally got to his feet, rubbing his throat. Benjen could see dark blue bruises forming on the older man’s skin.

“It was Otho.” Benjen said softly as the body continued to burn.

“Impossible.” Jeor muttered in disbelief though the truth was before him. Neither spoke another word until more Night’s Watch brothers came, having heard the commotion.

“Get yourself checked out by Aemon, Benjen. The rest of you put that body out and take it to the cells. Keep it there and post someone outside to stand watch until the morning.” Jeor ordered.

Benjen later sat with Aemon as the old Maester saw to his wounds. Thankfully his nose wasn’t broken but he did burn his hand from grabbing the lantern. He was still coming down from the rush of a fight and didn’t catch what Aemon had said.

“Forgive me Maester, my mind was elsewhere.” Benjen apologized.

“There is nothing to forgive my lord. I simply asked if the pain is still bothering you.” The old man said with a slight smile. Benjen flexed his sword hand that had been cleaned, covered in a salve and wrapped.

“No, I’ve had far worse. Thank you.” Benjen said as he stood. He stopped himself from leaving for a moment before turning to Aemon.

“Maester, I’m unsure what you’ve heard but what I fought is something that I’ve only ever heard stories about as a young child. I can’t even bring myself to speak of it.” Benjen said with a shake of his head.

“Being afraid of the truth won’t change it Lord Stark. Face it, embrace it and let it hold no power over you.” Aemon replied grimly.

“It was a wight. An undead creature twice as strong as any man and didn’t seem to mind having its arm cut off or a sword stabbed through its chest. It should be impossible though. If it is real, then what else out there is as well?” Benjen said, talking more to himself then Aemon.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the answers for you. The Citadel didn’t teach any about such creatures. I doubt they would believe me if I informed them.” Aemon said as he put away his materials.

“We are the Watcher’s on the Wall. It’s our duty to find out what happened.” Benjen said as he opened the door.

“Whatever you plan to do I ask you to guard yourself as best you can Benjen Stark. I’d hate for Jon to lose a family member before he returns to us one day.” Aemon said softly as he looked to be in thought.

“I have no plans on dying yet Maester.” Benjen said, trying to smile but unable to do so.

“No man ever does.” Aemon answered back grimly.

The next day the Watch assembled, and Jeor informed them that the body in the cells had burned to ash in the night, they’d been unable to put out the flames quickly enough to recover any useful evidence. He stated that he was ordering a great ranging beyond the wall in a fortnight to search the areas the surviving brothers had been to and try and make sense of what happened. As he dismissed them, he pulled Benjen aside.

“Ben, I want you to take some rangers and scout ahead. We both know what we saw and what it could mean. Take no chances. If you catch even a hint that something is wrong, you get back here as quickly as you can.” Jeor ordered. Benjen nodded in understanding and moved to the black smith. He’s sword had been rendered useless as it was caught in the fire that burned the wight and Benjen needed a new one.

“No so fast Stark I’ve got something more for you.” Benjen turned and his eyes widened when Jeor removed Longclaw, the ancient Valyrian steel sword of House Mormont from his waist and handed it to Benjen.

“Commander! I can’t accept this.” Benjen said in surprise.

“You can and you will. You save my life back there. I’d wanted to pass this own to my son but that’s impossible now. I tried to leave it with my sister that old stubborn she-bear said she and her daughters preferred the mace to a sword. I can think of no one better to hold that blade then a Stark.” Jeor said and crossed his arms, letting Benjen know he wasn’t taking it back.

“Thank you. I’ll care for it to my dying days.” Benjen said, noticing that at the end of the pommel Jeor had them carve a wolf’s head.

The next day Benjen set out with ten brothers of sufficient skill to scout the areas ahead of the Jeor’s forces. For a time, there was nothing to see. Benjen always marveled at the vast lands beyond the Wall but didn’t allow his focus to falter for a second as they moved along.

They knew something was wrong as they made camp a few nights later. It was quiet, eerily so. They had expected to hear the sounds of nature around them but there was only silence. The kind that raising the hair on the back of a man’s neck as if they were been watched, judged, hunted. Benjen and the other’s kept their talk to a minimum and ensured that at least two brothers took watch at the same time. It was Benjen’s turn to take watch with a brother when everything turned horribly wrong.

It started with a sound, the first they’d heard all day and night out in the pitch-dark distance. Benjen couldn’t place it immediately but soon recognized it as the sound of fast-moving bodies. Benjen shouted for the men to rise and managed to pull out Longclaw before the blue eyed wights attacked. Benjen, haven taken precautions, told the men to grab the touches that were in the fire and defend themselves. The men stood together and lite every wight insight on fire, ignoring the screeching they made as they burned to ash. However, it was soon more than clear that the sheer number of wights coming from the trees would overwhelm them.

“To Horse!” Benjen ordered as he cut off a wights head, lite another on fire with his torch and ran to his horse nearby. Thankfully the wights had ignored the frightened beasts in favor of killing the men. Benjen turned and his hear fell to see he was the only one to make it to his horse. Other were trying to catch up but were swarmed by the undead horde. Giving a silent curse Benjen turned his steed and quickly fled.

Benjen pushed his horse as fast as he dared. Given the low visibility he couldn’t afford to hit a tree, that would certainly be the end of him. All around he could only see darkness and guess at the horrors that hid within it. Benjen fought to keep fear and desperation from dominating his mind and thoughts. The Watch needed to know what was happening. Without his warnings the ranging party would be walking into a slaughter.

Benjen’s horse suddenly reared up with a startled cry. Benjen was thrown to the ground and slowly looked up to see multiple blue eyes staring at them from the dark. Suddenly wolves of all size, and state of decay, attacked the horse and brought it down. Benjen armed himself and ran for his life. He didn’t know where he was going but he knew he had to get away. He didn’t know how long he ran before exhaustion forced him to stop and rest against a tree. He struggled to catch his breath and listened intently for any sounds of a possible threat. He held his lantern up to peer into the darkness. He once again heard the sounds of oncoming threats and braced himself for a fight he knew he couldn’t win.

Surprisingly more sounds joined the fray, and these sounded like human voices. Through they cursed, shouted and used words he didn’t understand they were at the least alive. He saw oncoming lights from torches approaching as the apparent fighting died down and the group approached him.

‘Wildlings.’ Benjen thought without much relief. Though they were among the living, the Wildlings and Nights Watch were far from friendly and he had no doubt they’d kill him just like wights, probably make it more painful as well.

“We got a lonely crow here by himself.” Benjen heard one of the wildlings say with malice.

“Probably had his friends killed by the wights.” Another voice said with a chuckle. Benjen felt his blood boil at the laughter that rolled over the group at the thought of his dead friends. However, Benjen forced himself to keep a cool head. He needed to survive and get back to the Watch. He put away his sword and raised his hands.

“I mean no harm. I’ve been fighting those things like you have.” Benjen said tensely. He was met with more laughter.

“Aye and had you died to them it would be quicker than what I’m going to do to you.” A burly wildling said with a wicked smirk as he approached.

“Stop!”

Benjen had been prepared to draw his sword again and fight to the death before the feminine voice called out in the distance. More torches approached from the forest and Benjen was soon surrounded by wildlings. The wildling looking to kill him grumbled a curse as he put his sword away and moved aside from the woman who’d saved his life, for however long he still would have it. He could tell that most present wanted to tear him apart.

A woman walked up to him, garbed fully from head to toe against the snow and cold. Only her eyes were present, and they peered at him suspiciously for a moment. She held out her hand towards his sword and Benjen fought ever instinct within him from reacting as she removed Longclaw from his waist. She raised an eyebrow at his lack of reaction or fear as she eyed his sword for a moment.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

“Benjen Stark. First Ranger of the Night’s Watch.” Benjen replied. He heard more curses and spit hurled his way but refused to react, staring unflinchingly into her eyes that had darkened in apparent anger but unlike the others was under control. Suddenly she punched him in the face and kneed him in a particularly painful place. He fell to the ground as he heard her speak again.

“Take him to Mance.”

( **Jon** )

Jon hadn’t recalled having more fun then he currently was. The tavern he and Sam were in was full of merriment, laughter, warm food and good ale. Jon was not used to such things. Firstly, feasts and parties in the North were few and far between, most lords not wanting to waste more food then they had to. Secondly, Jon was always kept a distance away from the few feasts that took place. Being a bastard, he was unable to sit wit his siblings and Lady Stark made it a point that he wasn’t seen by those of higher birth. The stain to Ned Stark’s honor should be as far away from the family as possible in her opinion.

“Come on Sam you can do it!” Gendry said with a shout and deep laugh as Sam tried to down a cup of ale in one go. Sam was not a drinker and began to cough immediately. Jon couldn’t help but chuckle as well. Surprisingly, Gendry seemed to get on well with them easily. Perhaps it was because he too was a bastard. He informed them that he never knew his mother and was placed in Tobho’s care at an early age. He almost seemed as vested as Jon was in finding the identity of the Northman’s mother.

“ _I’d do the same if I didn’t already know she was dead._ ” Gendry had stated.

“You’re turn Jon!” Gendry said boisterously. Jon could only shake his head as he down his drink in one go with only a bit of a grunt to hide his cough. When they were younger, he and Robb had once snuck a bottle of wine from the cellars and tried to drink the whole thing. Both were sick the next morning and punished by their father when he found out what they did, though Lord Stark did have a small smirk at their conditions.

“I’d say it’s your turn but you’ve drunken more than both Sam and I.” Jon said with a small laugh. Gendry joined in as did Sam, looking to be coming out of his shell more around people that wouldn’t ridicule him.

“I don’t think anyone is drinking more than that man though.” Gendry pointed out. Jon turned and noticed a figure in a red robe singing loudly, and badly with a woman under his arm and a pitcher of wine in one hand.

“Is that a red priest?” Sam asked curiously, his eyes lighting up as they normally did when he found something interesting that he’d red about before.

“Looks like it though I’ve never seen one in person.” Jon said as he looked to Gendry who shook his head as well. Aside from the North, the remaining kingdoms followed the Faith of the Seven. The Red Priests followed the Lord of Light and were prominent in Essos but rarely traveled to Westeros as far and Jon was aware. They looked on as a slight man with red-gold hair wearing a black satin cloak decorated with stars. As the duo walked closer the red priest turned to them and raised a cup in their direction.

“Gendry! How is old Tobho?!” He said with a drunken smile. Jon and Sam looked to Gendry in surprise even as the blue-eyed young man stared back in confusion.

“I’m sorry but how do you know of me?” Gendry asked.

“Ahh that’s right last time I was in your shop I’d forgotten my robes. Surely you remember your master’s old friend Thoros.” The red priest asked. Gendry’s face lite up in recognition as he turned to Jon and Sam, both of whom were still perplexed.

“This is Thoros of Myr. He frequents my master’s shop from time to time to buy cheap swords. I’ve only ever met him once.” Gendry explained.

“Tobho keeps overcharging me! You’d think he’d give a discount for one of his best customers.” Thoros chuckled as he helped himself to sit beside Gendry and across from Jon. The man with Thoros looked apologetic at the intrusion but Jon offered for hi to sit as well.

“He said he did so because you keep ruining his work.” Gendry said with a chuckle. Thoros erupted in laughter and Jon and Sam relaxed and couldn’t help joining in.

“I feel it’s only right to introduce myself. I am Beric Dondarrion.” Thoros’ companion stated.

“I am Jon Snow, and this is Samwell Tarly.” Jon said shaking Beric’s hand and recognizing his last name. Sam was busy asking question after question at Thoros about his religion, his homeland and generally anything else that he could think of.

“Donarrion, you are the Lord of Blackhaven.” Jon said, a little surprised to see a lord of the Stormlands in the tavern with them.

“Aye I am and you’re of the North. What brings you to King’s Landing?” Beric asked him. As he watched Thoros and Gendry apparently engage in a drinking contest.

“I came to sell some goods.” Jon said vaguely. No reason to tell everyone his goals. He’d only just met Beric after all.

“You’ve come to the right place for that.” Beric said as he took a small drink. The five of them spent some time together, Thoros regaling everyone with his stories and travels before they heard a commotion. They turned to look and saw a number of men enter the bar wearing Lannister colors and seemingly in a disorderly mood. They shouted for drink and food and commandeered a table, tossing the previous occupants to the floor and telling them to piss off. One of the men grabbed the serving girl and tried to pull her in his lap. She struggled and he tightened his hold

Jon narrowed his eyes at the actions and saw the same look on Beric’s face as well. However, the man soon let the girl go and both settled down. The rest of the tavern did the same and every returned to their own business. It wasn’t long after that a young lad of about ten namedays came through the door and turned in their direction. He had pale blond hair and dark blue eyes. He wore a pale purple cloak and came up to Beric’s side.

“Jon this is my squire Edric Dayne.” Beric introduced the young man. Jon’s eyes widened at the name.

“You are of House Dayne.” Jon said lowly. Sam stopped his conversations with Gendry and Thoros and looked over in surprise as well. He looked to Jon excitedly.

“Yes I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Edric said with a smile and held out his hand. Jon grasped it firmly and returned the smile.

 “The pleasure is all mine. Sam and I were actually planning on taking a ship to visit Starfall in the morning.” Jon said surprising everyone save for Sam.

“Truly! I haven’t been back home for over a year. I do miss it. If you don’t mind me asking what your business in Starfall is?” Edric asked, his smile even brighter at meeting men that wanted to travel to his home. Before Jon to answer they, all heard a commotion. They turned and saw the Lannister soldiers were once again harassing the serving girls and one of the more drunk men had knocked down the owner of the establishment when he tried to intervene. No one seemed willing to stand up to the men, yet Jon found himself rising to his feet.

“Bad idea Jon. They are the Queen’s men.” Sam stated though by the look on his face he was anything but pleased with what he was seeing.

“I don’t care.” Jo said simply as he began to walk toward the crying girl pushing against the stronger man. He wasn’t surprised to see Gendry rise with him, he was surprised to see Sam, despite the fear in his eyes rise as well. However, before they could intervene Thoros beat them to the punch.

“My friends! I have been waiting for you!” He said with a drunken laugh as he staggered over to the group and all but fell onto the man holding the girl.

The soldier instinctively let the girl go to grab onto Thoros becoming confused and angered. Jon quickly pulled the girl away as Gendry did the same for owner. Seeing this the solider pushed Thoros off of him and made to grab for the girl again. Jon passed her to Sam and stood in front of the man.

“Leave her be.” Jon said quietly but with steel in his voice.

“And who are you to tell me what to do?” The soldier spat in a drunken rage. He put his hand on his sword prompting Jon to do the same. All conversation in the tavern ended and the atmosphere grew tense.

“Enough. You are the Queen’s men. Try acting like it before I fetch the Gold Cloaks and explain to the Kind when he returns what happened here.” Beric said as he moved from behind Jon. The solider looked at Beric and apparently recognizing a Lord of the Stormlands muttered a curse as he and his friends turned to leave, but not before shooting Jon a venom infused glare. As they left all of the patrons of the tavern raised a toast to Jon and his friends for doing what they could not.

“I don’t like the looks they gave when they left. Cruel men that are deep in their cups are liable to do terrible things.” Thoros said much more coherently, dropping the act. The others agreed and stood to follow the Lannister men.

“Edric, go and alert the City Watch commander to be on alert of possible disturbances tonight.” Beric told his young squire, both wanting to be prepared for the worst and wanting to keep him away from any danger. Edric seemed to understand this and while upset that he would being sent away for his protection obeyed without comment.

The others moved to follow the men out of the tavern and kept a bit od distance between them. So far, the Lannister men were being unruly and loud but hadn’t done anything more. They followed the men to Flea’s bottom, and it appeared they would simply pass through without incident when the old beggar woman Jon met earlier bumped into the men by mistake. The Lannister soldier kicked the old woman to the ground.

“Keep your hands off me scum!” The solider said as he began to beat and kick the woman. Others came to try and help their friend and Jon had seen enough. Unfortunately, they were too late to stop the Lannister men from drawing steel and beginning to attack the beggars, whom the men apparently felt were a threat though in reality they’d been looking for an excuse to spill blood. Screams split the air as they were cut down and Jon felt rage flood his system.

He pulled out his sword and attacked the Lannister that had kicked the woman, who hadn’t moved since the assault. Though drunk the Lannister man seemed to know a bit how to fight but it was nothing close to Jon’s skill especially as his sword strokes were being fueled by his anger. It took no time at all for Jon to disarm the man and bring him to his knees. Everything within him was calling for the man’s death but Jon fought against the impulse and knocked the man out with the butt of his pommel. He looked up and the two other Lannister men, seeing their leader knocked out, put their swords away.

Seeing this, Jon left them for Gendry and Beric to detain while Sam checked on some of the injured beggars. Jon kneeled beside the old woman and his heart broke to see no life in her eyes. She’d been stomped to death. He looked up when he heard a cry of pain and saw one of Lannister men had snuck up behind Beric and driven his sword into his back. Thoros called out in shock and fell to his friend’s side.

Gendry was busy holding off the remaining Lannister soldier and the one responsible for attacking Beric was turning towards Jon. Jon would not hesitate and he no longer kept a leash on his anger. The man had proven himself a killer twice over with no honor and there would be no more mercy. The two met with a clash of steel and Jon took a small bit of enjoyment toying with the man who not long ago thought he was untouchable as he preyed upon the weak and downtrodden. Jon disarmed this man and as he raised his hands in surrender Jon put his sword in his throat. The soldier’s eyes widened in surprised as he grasped his throat to try and stop the flow of blood.  Jon watched the life leave the man’s eyes and felt no regret.

“Stop there all of you!” Jon turned and saw Edric rushing to his Lord’s side as a stout man with jowls and a bald pate arrived at the head of men from the City Watch. Jon put away his sword and moved to speak when the Lannister Soldier he’d previously knocked to the ground roused himself.

“Arrest him! He’s killed my men and these people here!” The solider shouted. Gendry and Sam shouted back in refusal, but the commander of the City Watch looked at the man’s outfit and immediately turned his weasel like eyes to Jon.

“Arrest him.” The men ran up to Jon and roughly put him on his knees as they brought out chains. Jon began to protest before he was hit in the face and everything turned dark.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story in this fandom. I welcome all comments and questions. 
> 
> Next chapter will see Jon prepare to leave on his quest and the reactions it creates.


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